


Dancing With Time

by NotEnoughAnswers



Series: Time-Turner Trilogy [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 103,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotEnoughAnswers/pseuds/NotEnoughAnswers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <i>An Exquisite Pain.</i> She dared to hope that everything would turn out all right. But she hadn't foreseen the long-term effects of being a time-traveller, or what exactly a certain Dark wizard would do in his quest for power...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Waiting For Death

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from FanFiction.Net, February 2016.

She was dying.

She couldn't save him. It was all her fault. If she hadn't been so _stubborn_ , so _arrogant_ , then he would be safe and she wouldn't be desperately clinging on to every ounce of life she had.

"Clara, _open your eyes_!" he told her, a hint of panic to his voice. That was odd. He was never worried…

"I can't," she whispered. Something was paralyzing her. She couldn't move an inch.

"Yes, you can," he insisted. She felt his hands brush her face, pulling her hair away from her eyes. "Damn it, Clara, you are _not—_ "

"I'm sorry," she murmured. She ached to open her eyes, even if it was just so she could see his face one last time. "I love you."

He was shaking her, trying to get her to move. "It's no use, Tom. He poisoned me." She felt tears seeping out from behind her closed eyelids.

"I will kill him," he said, hatred evident in his tone.

"You can't…stay with me instead. Please."

There was a short pause, and she felt herself being lifted up. "Tom, don't," she protested weakly.

"I am not going to let you die, Clara," he said savagely.

"You have to. He wants you to come after him." Danielle heard his rapid breathing against her chest, and yearned to touch him.

A dizziness was beginning to start in her head. She felt herself go limp. At least her death would be quick.

Vaguely, she heard laughing in the distance. A loud bang sounded next to her ear and Tom let go of her. She fell to the ground, her head hitting the stone floor with a sickening crack.

And then all was darkness.


	2. Erik

_**August 31, 1943** _

It was the busiest day of the year in Diagon Alley. Shoppers were crammed like Muggle sardines in every store and building. Outside, the streets struggled to contain the overflow of people. If viewed from above, Diagon Alley would resemble a long, winding ribbon of the purples and greens and reds of cloaks, greatly opposed to the neutral browns and blacks of the rest of Muggle London.

The reason for this mass congregation of witches and wizards was simple: the Hogwarts Express left the next day. Families gathered for one last day of bonding; Muggle-borns struggled to adapt to their new culture; procrastinating students hurried from one shop to another, desperate to purchase all of their school supplies before it was too late.

The shopkeepers always looked forward to the huge influx of business, but the downside was that most employees had to work overtime. August thirty-first was both welcomed and dreaded in equal measures. No matter how much money they made, the residents would always breathe a sigh of relief when the day was finally over.

Perhaps one of the busiest shops in Diagon Alley was Flourish & Blotts, the only entirely magical bookstore in London. Their staff was working harder today than they did on most other days combined; for nearly twelve hours the store had been filled with voices, footsteps and the rustling of pages. Every ten minutes or so an employee could be seen ducking into the back room for a much-needed break.

This was where sixteen-year-old Danielle Bailey, known to most as Clara Ashford, was currently hiding. Even though today was her last day working, she didn't much feel like dealing with the frenetic rush outside.

Summer was nearly over and she had to admit that she'd accomplished next to nothing. She still had a stack of homework stuffed somewhere in the depths of her suitcase, and her skin was pasty white after spending two months in cloudy, rainy London. But Danielle was happy. It was a cautious happiness, but happiness nonetheless.

Dumbledore had shown up at the orphanage one day in July, much to the amazement of Mrs Cole. With his flamboyant green suit and pointy hat, he must have seemed mad to the other orphans. Taking Danielle aside, he quietly explained to her that he'd pulled some strings and gotten a summer job for her at Flourish & Blotts. Danielle had been extremely grateful and thanked him multiple times, her gratitude increasing even more when he said he'd also gotten a job for Tom at the apothecary.

She knew the last thing her… _boyfriend_ wanted to do was stay cooped up at Vauxhall Orphanage all summer and he would put up with the job without a fight. So far, he had been surprisingly agreeable with working and had even let Danielle visit him during lunch break.

Sitting in a tiny, dark back room mixing potions and inhaling noxious fumes all day wasn't Danielle's idea of a fantastic job, but Tom seemed to enjoy it well enough. He put up with it at the very least. "You would not understand, Clara," he would tell her exasperatedly whenever she questioned him about it.

To be honest, she didn't really care _what_ he did as long as it kept his mind off Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem and his father. Danielle knew he was still hell-bent on going to Albania, but seeing as how travel across Europe was near-impossible at the moment with the escalating war, he would have to wait a little while longer.

As for finding his father, Dumbledore had taken care of that. He'd hidden away all the files that mentioned the Riddle family so Tom couldn't find them. It was Danielle's job to keep him busy enough so that he wouldn't have any time to do research. It seemed to be working—but with Tom, things were rarely black and white.

Danielle still cringed whenever she thought the word _boyfriend._ It sounded ridiculous when compared to Tom—besides, their relationship was based more on sheer tolerance than walking down the street hand in hand. She smiled as she thought about holding Tom's hand in public; he would never allow it. Only a handful of people knew about their relationship...if it could even be called that. Their kisses were few and far between—it was too awkward and strange for them to do anything more than that. Danielle remembered the time she'd tried to undo his shirt during a rare heated moment, but Tom had immediately gone rigid and pulled away. They'd avoided each other for the next twenty-four hours, but Danielle wasn't disappointed. Even if Tom wanted to do anything, he couldn't: the orphanage walls were thin, anyone could walk in at any time, and his modest upbringing hadn't prepared him for such intense moments with girls.

But sometimes, Danielle found herself wondering exactly _how_ far he'd imagined them going…her cheeks went hot every time her mind so much as turned in that direction. Everything was still too new for them to become that serious just yet.

"Clara!" a voice yelled from the front of the store, causing Danielle to jump and hit her head on a stack of books jutting out from a shelf. "Are you back there?"

"Yes," she moaned, glaring at the offending books and climbing to her feet, pulling her messy hair up into a bun and smoothing out her skirt. After forty minutes in front of the mirror one day, she'd been forced to conclude her hair just wouldn't straighten into the style that girls of the nineteen-forties wore. She'd compromised by stuffing the unruly curls under a hat and leaving them to spill out from underneath the brim, ignoring Tom's amused glances whenever he saw her.

The current manager of Flourish & Blotts, Irvin Aldwinkle, was dashing around the store with a harried look on his prematurely lined face. "Ah, Clara!" he exclaimed. "We have a shortage of helpers at the moment—would you mind assisting this young lad here?"

Before she could answer, there was a panicked yell and the nearest booktable was suddenly overturned with a deafening crash. Papers flew everywhere and they narrowly missed being knocked down by a Divination textbook.

"Merlin—I'm so, so _sorry_!" a high-pitched voice sounded from under the pile of books. Danielle and Aldwinkle watched in astonishment as a hand emerged from the sea of volumes. Not long after, a head covered with messy blond hair popped out and a boy pulled himself out of the mess.

He looked to be Danielle's age with a boyish, red face and dozens of freckles. His expression turned even more embarrassed when he realized he had an audience. "I was trying to help—" he said breathlessly, with a trace of a foreign accent. "—I didn't mean to. Listen, I'll clean it up—"

"No, no, it's fine," Aldwinkle said. With a flick of his wand, the table neatly rearranged itself. "Happens all the time."

Danielle felt it best to smile at the strange boy, who sheepishly returned the gesture. "I was just looking for a set of textbooks," he said earnestly. "I'm starting at Hogwarts this year, and I want to be prepared…"

"You're a new student?" she asked him in interest. As far as she knew, _she_ was the first transfer student Hogwarts had ever had.

The boy nodded. "My parents were killed by Grindelwald's forces five months ago when he attacked Sweden…" He trailed off sadly. "Your headmaster said I was welcome to finish my schooling at Hogwarts. My name is Erik Dahl."

Danielle felt a pang of sympathy for the awkward boy, whose eyes were downcast when he mentioned his parents. "I'm Clara Ashford and I go to Hogwarts too," she told him. "Which year are you entering?"

"Fifth." Erik looked hopeful. "What about you?"

"Sixth, but that's all right. We'll see each other sometime, I'm sure," Danielle reassured him. "Now, what books are you looking for?"

* * *

Even though Erik was clumsy and extremely shy, he had a pathetic sort of charm to him that reminded Danielle of a puppy. He'd evidently just gone through a rapid growth spurt, leaving him lanky and unsure what to do with his limbs. He dropped his heap of books more than once, but she patiently picked them up every time. When he not-so-subtly asked her if she wanted to sit with him on the train the next day, she quickly said she had Prefect duties to do, even though they didn't take up the entire ride. Erik was sweet, but he was starting to get on her nerves.

The rest of the day passed in a rushed frenzy, and it was with regret that Danielle received her last payment and left the bookstore for good. Part of her was excited to go back to Hogwarts, but the other part wanted summer to last forever so she wouldn't have to worry about homework, exams…or Tom.

The potions he'd been taking regularly to keep his curse under control were working marvellously, though Danielle knew it wouldn't last forever. He seemed to be more prone to displays of emotion when he was at Hogwarts…emotions which triggered Vetus Periculosus. Danielle and Tom were doing all the research they could on the mysterious affliction, but so far neither of them had come up with anything. It was reassuring to know that Dumbledore most likely had something up his sleeve, since he'd been quiet whenever they'd asked him if he had any more answers.

Just _thinking_ about Tom was enough to make Danielle's heart beat faster. She took the long way back to the orphanage so she could meet him leaving the apothecary, a ritual they'd adopted since the beginning of summer.

Surprisingly, Tom wasn't waiting outside for her as he usually did. Danielle took it upon herself to poke her head into the cramped, musty store. "Hello?" she called into the dark void.

A movement beside her made her jump for the second time that day; at least this time her head didn't come into contact with sharp objects. "Has no one taught you that patience is a virtue?" the slightly mocking voice of Tom Riddle asked. He pushed open the door and stepped outside, brushing soot off his clothes. Even though he'd spent all day bent over a steaming cauldron with ingredients scattered everywhere, he still looked as composed and clean as he had that morning. Danielle envied him for this; even handling an old book was enough to dirty her outfit.

"Busy day?" she said, ignoring his rhetorical question and letting their fingers brush. She could perfectly envision his smirk at the simple touch.

"Most likely," Tom replied in his usual eloquent tone, shrugging his shoulders. "I would not know."

"Of course," she muttered. "You work in the backroom all day. Be honest with me, does it ever get…I dunno… _boring_ mixing beetle eyes and frog bile for eight hours? I'm surprised you don't need glasses."

"With remarks like that, I am surprised you were not let off _your_ job the moment you walked into the store," Tom answered smartly.

Danielle grinned widely, feeling a swell of pride. Now, what kind of sixteen-year-old boy in 2011—the time she was _supposed_ to live in—spoke like that?

They passed an alleyway and Danielle playfully pushed Tom inside, standing on her tiptoes to hopefully receive one of his rare kisses.

She was pleasantly surprised when he obliged, placing a hand on her waist protectively and pulling her closer. Tom was usually so private about these kinds of things…if he had it his way, no one except the two of them would know about their clandestine relationship.

Danielle decided not to push her luck and ended the kiss after another moment, hoping that the momentary glimpse of emotion she'd seen in his eyes was disappointment.

They continued walking through Diagon Alley, Danielle oblivious to the pair of cold, dark eyes watching them from a balcony above.


	3. Attack on the Train

Danielle woke up far too early the next morning, so early the birds outside hadn't even started chirping. She lay in the hard, uncomfortable cot that passed as a bed and stared up at the crumbling ceiling, watching a cockroach scuttle across it. After a relatively peaceful summer, she was starting to be plagued by nightmares again. The faces of her dead brother, mother and father would startle her awake, sweating and shaking. Voldemort would even make an appearance in the worst ones. She would lie terrified for hours on end, trying to forget the sight of his snakelike, red eyes and cruel smile. No matter how many times she tried to take comfort in Tom's beautiful, _human_ face, she couldn't forget who he was— _would_ become, if he didn't do something to stop it.

There was a sudden movement at the window and Danielle, glad for a distraction, rose to open it. Her screech owl Alistair was tapping at the glass and holding a letter in his claws. Danielle pulled him inside and threw him a treat before tearing open the envelope. It had the Hogwarts insignia on it; had she gotten into trouble somehow?

But another equally terrifying thought crossed her mind: The O.W.L. results. She'd thought she did well on the examinations…at the time. Now, however, she wasn't so sure.

Holding her breath, Danielle pulled out the letter:

_ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS_

__**Pass Grades:** Outstanding (O) **Fail Grades:** Poor (P)  
Exceeds Expectations (E) Dreadful (D)  
Acceptable (A) Troll (T)

_CLARA MARIE ASHFORD HAS ACHIEVED:_

_Care of Magical Creatures: E_  
Charms: A  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: E  
Divination: P  
Herbology: A  
History of Magic: P  
Muggle Studies: O  
Potions: E  
Transfiguration: E

Yes. _Yes._ She'd done much better than she feared—all that studying with Alyssa, Dylan and Alphard had seemingly paid off. Of course she'd failed Divination and History of Magic, but who cared about them anyway? She would never have to take those classes again.

Danielle read over her results once more, her smile growing wider every time. Seven O.W.L.s wasn't bad under _normal_ circumstances! Surely Dumbledore would be proud of her.

She went downstairs with a much lighter heart and even smiled at the orphanage's surly cook, Glenda. Maybe she did have a chance of someday getting a job, after all.

The rest of the orphans filed downstairs one by one, yawning and stretching. Danielle's friend and great-uncle, Billy Stubbs, was one of the last to arrive. Things had been awkward between them at the beginning of the summer (after all, Danielle _had_ kissed him the last time she'd seen him) but thankfully, their relationship had become purely platonic. The last thing she wanted was to get into a messy love triangle with Voldemort and one of her distant relatives.

Speaking of future Dark Lords, Tom was surprisingly one of the last ones to come downstairs. Danielle tried to catch his eye as he sat down, but he didn't meet her gaze. So she tried something else she knew would work—subtly placing her hand on his knee under the table. She could feel his imperceptible jerk of surprise and he finally turned his head to glare at her. Danielle smiled at him and gave her best "What are you angry about?" look.

Tom narrowed his eyes slightly, a sure sign that she was going to get told off later. But Danielle stayed smiling throughout the entire breakfast, thinking about the little nudge more than she probably should have. It was hard to stay focused on her conversation with Billy when she was hyperaware of Tom beside her. As usual, she could feel his intense gaze on the back of her head analyzing and judging her every word.

* * *

When they were dismissed after the meal, Danielle rushed up to her room and stuffed everything in her suitcase as quickly as she could before saying a hasty good-bye to Billy and lugging her items to Tom's room. She needed to talk to him now, because they surely wouldn't have any privacy on the train and it was rare they found themselves alone at school.

Danielle found him sitting on his bed perusing an Arithmancy textbook. As she expected, his things were already packed neatly and tucked away into his suitcase. "Well, good morning to you too," she teased, shutting the door with her foot.

Tom closed the textbook and looked up at her. "What was your problem this morning?" he asked.

"Why'd you come down so late?" Danielle retorted.

He pointed at an envelope lying on top of his suitcase. Danielle recognized it as identical to hers. "I got my results today too!" she exclaimed.

"Then why are you in such a positive mood?" said Tom. It took Danielle several seconds to realize he was attempting to make a joke. Her heart swelled with pride even as she smiled inanely at him. Despite his (mostly) deadpan façade, he had a dry, subtle sense of humour that revealed itself now and again.

Not brothering to ask his permission, Danielle snatched up the envelope and looked over the results; of course, Tom had gotten "Outstanding" in everything. She couldn't help feeling a tiny bit jealous as she made a disgruntled noise and tucked the paper back.

"What is the matter, Clara?" he said with a neutral expression, but she knew him well enough to be sure he was secretly amused.

Danielle huffed and turned away. "I see are marks are tied yet again."

A smirk crossed over Tom's handsome face. "Is that so? I challenge you to see who does better this year again."

Merlin, he was certainly in a playful mood. Danielle figured it was because he was looking forward to going back to Hogwarts. Or perhaps it was just a blue moon. "Mrs Cole is bringing the car around in fifteen minutes," she said. "Want to say your goodbyes?"

He gave her a disparaging look. Danielle laughed. "At least you have only one more summer here," she said.

"Fortunately." Tom stood up and retrieved his suitcase. "Let's go, then."

* * *

As usual, the car ride with Mrs Cole was practically silent. Tom never spoke to the orphanage head if he could help it, and of course Danielle couldn't speak freely with the old woman around. She settled on awkward, stilted conversation until the three of them naturally fell quiet.

Though London as a whole was stagnant in the morning, King's Cross was already bustling with life. Danielle thanked Mrs Cole and waved goodbye as they left the car and headed up to the platform. Magical folk could be spotted here and there among the seas of tattered coats and hats worn by the Muggles.

They hurried through the barrier of Platform 9 ¾ and emerged on the other side to a completely different world than the one they had just left behind. Owls hooted, children yelled and adults hurried along the platform, waving goodbye to the departing students and helping them onto the train.

"See you at Prefect duty?" Danielle whispered to Tom. He nodded and she immediately disappeared into the crowd, having spotted a familiar face.

Alphard Black had grown taller and lankier during the summer, but his kind, open face hadn't changed. Danielle tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around before grabbing her in a huge hug. "Clara!" he exclaimed. "How was your vacation?"

"Not as bad as I thought it would be," Danielle admitted. "I got a job at Flourish & Blotts."

"Lucky," replied Alphard. "I had to sit in Grimmauld Place for two months watching my siblings parade around with their respective others."

Danielle laughed. Alphard was not particularly fond of Walburga and Orion. As the literal "black sheep" of the family, it took a lot of effort for him to stay as optimistic as he was.

The two of them went together to put away their luggage and then hopped onto the train. "Have you seen Alyssa or Dylan yet?" Danielle asked.

Alphard shook his head. "Lyssa told me they'd save a compartment for us."

Amidst the sea of excited students, Danielle spotted a pair of redheads disappearing into a door ahead of them. Suddenly eager, she jogged over to it and stuck her head into the compartment door, earning a joyful shriek from Alyssa MacDougal. "You've grown taller, Clara!" she called, leaping up to give her friend a hug. "I'm so jealous."

Danielle pulled back and surveyed Alyssa's petite, tiny body. The older MacDougal twin was barely five feet tall, but she made up for it in personality. "You look the same, Lyssa," she joked, grinning evilly and turning to say hello to Dylan.

After the obligatory greetings had been exchanged, a happy chatter broke out in the compartment. Danielle described her summer job, earning gasps and giggles from her friends in the appropriate places. She barely even noticed the Hogwarts Express pulling away from the station; after all, she had no one to say goodbye too. The thought stung her more than she cared to admit, but Dumbledore told her she had to always focus on the positive things.

"Soooo…" Alyssa said dramatically during a lull in the conversation. "How are things with you and a certain Tom Riddle?"

Danielle blushed in spite of herself. "The same."

"Have you told him you love him yet?" Dylan asked. His eyes narrowed infinitesimally and for a moment Danielle was sure she saw jealousy in them. It must be an old habit; according to his sister Dylan had fallen for a Muggle girl living in Spain, whom he corresponded regularly with.

"I don't love him," Danielle said immediately, though she knew she was lying to herself. The way she felt about Tom Riddle was something that no one, not even Tom himself, could understand. There was no point in trying to explain it to her friends.

Of course, the three other Slytherins rolled their eyes and looked appropriately doubtful, all giving replies to the effect of, "Yeah, right." Smiling awkwardly, Danielle changed the topic to something completely different.

Luckily for her, they fell for it—that time, at least.

* * *

Prefect duty usually occurred halfway through the train ride. Danielle was just about to change into her robes and find Tom when the train abruptly slowed its speed. Confused, she glanced out the window. It was a cloudy day and the possibility of rain threatened the horizon, but there didn't seem to be any reasons for the train to slow.

"Maybe the conductor accidentally pressed on the brakes," Alyssa said doubtfully. Not three seconds after she had finished speaking, the train ground to a complete halt. Danielle was thrown onto the opposite seat by the force of the stop and had to steady herself against the wall.

"I'm going to go see what's happening," she said and slipped out of the compartment. All down the train, heads were poking out of doors and many questions were thrown her way as she moved farther down the hallway, but she could only reply with a shrug.

Tom was just coming out of his compartment and Danielle felt an odd sense of relief as she walked up to him. "D'you know what's going on?" she asked. "The train's not supposed to stop—"

But she could already tell by the annoyed look in his eyes that he was just as clueless as she was. Tom hated not knowing anything, especially when it disrupted the sense of order he craved.

"Go ask the others if they know something about this," he ordered. "I will go ask the conductor—"

His words were cut short by Danielle's sharp intake of breath. She clapped a hand over her mouth as the clammy fingers of fear closed over her heart.

The only other time the Hogwarts Express had stopped en route was when a group of Dementors were called in to search the train for the escaped convict Sirius Black…and if Danielle wasn't mistaken, she was beginning to feel an unearthly chill creeping up her spine.

"Tom," she began, voice shaking, "Do you know how to cast a Patronus?"

"In theory, yes," he said testily. "Do _you_?"

Danielle nodded. "Have you ever seen a Dementor face-to-face?"

Now he looked suspicious. "No. Why?"

Wordlessly, she pointed at the tall black shape that had appeared at the other end of the train. A sickening chill swept over her and she unconsciously stepped backwards, pressing herself against Tom's chest. For once, he didn't push her away.

Everything happened within the space of thirty seconds, though it felt much longer: as the Dementor glided closer, voices swirled around Danielle's head, becoming increasingly higher in pitch:

" _Danielle, I'm sorry…" her brother moaned. "I told Teddy about it…the Slytherins overheard him…"_

_Her mother was screaming, "William! Get back here! Don't go downstairs!"_

_A whisper, full of malice, echoed from the darkness…"Stupid girl…foolish girl…you dare to defy Lord Voldemort?"_

Danielle was shivering against Tom, willing him to react in some way. But he had frozen as well and was staring at the Dementor with a look she had never seen on his face before.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," she said shakily, drawing her wand and pointing it at the shape. A tiny puff of white mist burst out of the wand, but it was hardly enough to deter the creature.

_Think of something happy, Danielle…something happy…_

Tom's arms suddenly tightened around her and he took a step backward. His skin was as cold as ice.

" _Expecto Patronum_!" Danielle commanded again. " _Expecto Patronum_!" She was with Tom…she would be safe…

A sickening wave of nausea swept over her and her body literally went limp as she fell to the floor. This acted as some sort of catalyst and Tom readjusted his grip, jerking back to life. His wand was trained on the Dementor, which was growing ever-closer…

Through her sudden haze of nausea and dizziness, Danielle saw a blurred white form dash at the hooded creature and it was thrown backwards—had he just cast a Patronus?—Wasn't that impossible; weren't Voldemort and his Death Eaters incapable of producing one?

Tom was whispering urgently into her ear, trying to get her to respond, but Danielle couldn't answer him. Her tongue had gone heavy and she struggled to form words.

Just as she felt frustrated tears forming in her eyes, strength flooded back into her legs and the clammy feeling passed, as if she hadn't just nearly had a fainting spell.

Danielle stared up at Tom with wide eyes. What in the name of Merlin had just happened to her—to them?


	4. Skender

"That was a Dementor! I swear I just saw one!"

"A _Dementor?_ On the _Hogwarts Express?"_

"Yes! Merlin, didn't you _feel_ that?"

Now that the danger was past, students were pouring out of their compartments into the hallway, craning their necks to see if they could spot anything. Nobody seemed to have noticed Danielle and Tom's stricken looks.

"How could you have done that?" Danielle asked him without thinking. "Cast a Patronus, I mean."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I did not."

"Then who—"

Her question was answered when a tall figure dressed entirely in black stepped between them and lowered its hood. It was a boy Danielle's age, but he was tall, even taller than Tom, with close-cropped brown hair and dark green eyes. The beginnings of what promised to be a thick beard clung to his chin. He looked Danielle up and down with a slight grimace before focusing on Tom. "I cast it," he said in a low, guttural voice. His accent was thick and harsh, but Danielle had spent enough time in Albania to recognize a native when she saw (or rather, heard) one.

"So it wasn't Tom?" she asked stupidly, with more than a hint of disappointment. It would have been a wonderful surprise if he _had_ cast a Patronus…it would have meant he was another step removed from Voldemort. But he had been trying, hadn't he? He'd raised his wand…

"No, Clara," Tom said through gritted teeth. His eyes were locked onto the newcomer's as intensely as the newcomer's were locked onto his.

The stranger raised his chin in a show of pride and defiance but didn't look elsewhere. Tom was glaring at him so forcefully Danielle was surprised he didn't burst into flames. She had to give it to the new boy; even she could never last that long when Tom gave her that look.

The internal power struggle lasted for another two minutes before the Albanian boy turned away from Tom. Danielle caught the momentarily smug look on Tom's face; he'd won that round, although by how much she didn't know.

"You are Clara Ashford, yes?" the stranger asked, fixing his green gaze on her.

She nodded hesitantly. "T—thank you for saving us."

"What else could I do?" he responded. "It would not have reflected well on me to watch you suffer."

Danielle wasn't sure if he was making some attempt at humour or if he was actually serious. Either way, it wouldn't please Tom. "How did you know my name?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"I heard your friend talking earlier," he said. "I am new at Hogwarts this year and I want to learn all the names."

"New?" Danielle replied in confusion. "What's with all these new students? First me, then Erik, now you…"

"It appears you have started a trend," Tom drawled lazily, though the fire still hadn't quite left his eyes.

"My name is Skender," the boy said, holding out his hand to Danielle. "I am from Fierza, in the north of Albania."

"Are you fleeing Grindelwald's reign?" Danielle asked. "That's, er, why I came to Hogwarts last year."

Skender's eyes were downcast. "Yes. My family, they are still back home. The only reason I am here is because my father has… _connections_ in Britain. They allowed me to study at Hogwarts for one year."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. Your headmaster says I am going into my last year."

"I'm going into my sixth year," said Danielle. "That's all right, though. We might, um, still see each other."

Skender nodded. "Everyone says that Hogwarts is a big school. Will I get lost easily?"

" _Very_ easily," Danielle answered. "But you just have to remember that—"

From behind them, Tom cleared his throat. "We have to leave, Clara," he said sharply. "I do not want to be late for the Prefects' meeting."

Danielle seriously doubted he cared _that_ much about being late, but she smiled apologetically at Skender anyway. "I'm sure I'll see you around again," she assured before turning to Tom.

Without another word, he led her down the hallway to the Prefects' compartment at the very front of the train. "What was that all about?" she said, breaking the silence. "I was just trying to be helpful—"

"Do not talk to him again, Clara," Tom interrupted. "Something is not quite right."

 _With your head, maybe,_ she thought sourly, but didn't dare to say it out loud. Only occasionally was Tom amused by her sarcasm, and something told her this wasn't one of those times.

* * *

Within minutes, the entire train was abuzz with the talk of Dementors. Terrified students hid in their compartments and refused to leave until they were sure the coast was clear. Rumours began to spread, ranging from the possible (they had escaped Azkaban) to the ridiculous (the Ministry of Magic was trying to enslave the students). To Danielle's elation, the Prefect meeting was canceled. For the rest of the train ride, she and Tom sat with Dylan, Alyssa and Alphard. The twins and Alphard speculated excitedly while Tom sat stoic in the corner, watching Danielle closely. She was used to his penetrating stare by now, but this time something was missing. He was pretending to look at her when he was really thinking hard about something. The Dementor attack? His inability to produce a Patronus? Danielle wished her powers of Legilimency were stronger, so she could know exactly what he was pondering so intensely.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express arrived in Hogsmeade hours after night fell. Danielle wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders and stayed close to Tom as the students surged up to the carriages that took them to the castle. The Thestrals snorted and stamped their feet impatiently; Danielle could clearly see their breath in the cold air. As far as she knew, Tom was the only other person able to see the horse-like creatures.

"Are you glad to be back at Hogwarts?" she asked him when they were safely inside one of the carriages. It wasn't the most intelligent question, but his brooding silences were never a good thing.

Tom gave her a suspicious sideways glance. "What do _you_ think, Clara?"

Danielle shrugged. "I was just wondering."

Now he was looking at her like she was insane. Maybe she was. What was wrong with her?

* * *

Danielle had never been more grateful to be back at Hogwarts. The torches on the walls glowed brightly with warm, flickering flames, chasing away the memory of the Dementor. The smell of delicious food wafted up from the kitchens, where the house-elves were hard at work preparing the feast.

At the Slytherin table, Danielle slid into the seat next to Alphard. He was staring longingly at the empty plate in front of him. "They should let us eat the meal early," he moaned.

"All the first-years have probably left, anyway, after what happened," Dylan remarked across from them. He nudged Alyssa in the ribs, who was staring at the staff table.

"Dippet's not here yet," she said, disappointed. "The feast won't start without him."

"He's probably talking to Erik and Skender," Danielle explained. "That's what he did with me when I first arrived here." When they gave her blank looks, she added, "They're transfer students."

" _More_ transfer students?" Dylan asked. "That's just what Hogwarts needs. Soon the place will be overrun with Americans." He made a face.

"They're not American," Danielle told him. "Erik's Swedish and Skender's Albanian. Anyway I don't think international students are allowed here."

"That's what they said about transfer students," Dylan shot back.

Before Danielle could retort, the door to the Great Hall opened and Dippet hurried inside, followed by a terrified-looking Erik and a stony-faced Skender. Danielle tried to catch Erik's eye, but he was staring down at his shoes instead. She remembered the evening, exactly one year ago, where she'd been in the same position.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Dippet began. "I am pleased to announce that Hogwarts is welcoming two new transfer students, Erik Dahl from Sweden and Skender Bardhi from Albania. They will be entering fifth and seventh years respectively. I hope you will all do your best to make them feel welcome here."

That was taken as a dismissal by Erik, who scuttled off to the Hufflepuff table. Danielle was sure that if he had been a dog, his tail would be between his legs. Skender, meanwhile, took longer. He sauntered over to the Ravenclaw table, refusing to make eye contact with the hundreds of curious faces.

Dippet made his way up to the front of the room. He waited for the whispers to quiet before he spoke again. "On a more somber note, I am sure all of you know by now that there were Dementors on the Hogwarts Express earlier today. They were meant to be carefully monitored; however, mistakes are made and it appears one became loose.

"The Ministry of Magic has required that every citizen of Britain become vigilant. Grindelwald's army has conquered the rest of Europe, but we still stand! This means that an attack in London or Hogwarts could occur at any time. Spies may be among us. The Dementors were sent to search the train for unwelcome intruders. Luckily, their search yielded no results."

The Hall erupted in chatter the second he stopped talking. "If 'spies are among us', why did he let two transfer students in?" Alphard muttered.

"Grindelwald wouldn't use teenagers," scoffed Alyssa. "What about that man up there?" She pointed to a stern-looking figure sitting at the staff table. The lines of his face were uneven and sharp and he was glaring at Dippet with a look that could only be described as abhorrence.

"Who's _that_?" Danielle asked. "A new teacher?"

No one knew the answer. Even though the food appeared half a second later, she wasn't hungry. Her stomach was still churning, whether from apprehension or the aftereffects of whatever sudden illness had seized her. Even looking over at Tom didn't help.

There was only one thing to do, Danielle decided.

She would go and see Dumbledore right after supper. He would surely know what was going on.

He _had_ to.


	5. Unhelpful Advice

To Danielle's disappointment, Dumbledore didn't leave immediately after the feast ended, but instead continued an intense conversation with Dippet. She stared at him as hard as she could, hoping he would somehow be able to sense her gaze on him, but he didn't turn. Either he didn't care about her plight, or was too wrapped up in conversation.

An impatient Tom eventually cleared his throat after he noticed Danielle wasn't moving. "Can't you do Prefect duty on your own?" she complained. "I'll make it up to you somehow."

" _No_ , Clara," he said forcefully, his gaze as effective as any physical prodding. "If you do not want to go to bed late, I suggest we get started now."

Danielle groaned but dutifully followed him out of the Great Hall, casting furtive glances back at Dumbledore as she went. She wished she had sharper hearing, so she could be able to hear the discussion that had the Transfiguration professor so enraptured.

For a while, the only sound was the click of hers and Tom's shoes on the stone floor. Eventually he asked, "What is the matter?"

Danielle shifted her eyes over to him. "I thought you hated my constant talking. Y'know, you always complain about how my 'incessant chatter' disrupts your sacred quiet."

The barest hint of a smile crossed his face. "I do not deny it. But this is unusual, Clara, even for you."

She sighed. "I'm just tired, I guess. The Dementor attack really wore me out." When Tom's dubious expression told her he didn't believe one word, she continued, "I just want to talk to Dumbledore."

"Why?"

Merlin, there was no use lying to him. "I wanted to ask him about the fainting spell I almost had."

"Would Madam Cutteridge not be a better option?" he asked.

Why did he always have to be one step ahead of her? Danielle didn't even bother thinking of a snarky reply. She kept her eyes on the ground and didn't answer.

Another long silence passed before she said, "Have you taken your potion today?"

His stoic expression made it clear the answer was no. "Tom, you have to take it every day," Danielle chastised. "Do you want to become sick again?"

"I _am_ sick, Clara," he said stiffly. "The potion does not make it disappear—"

"But it helps," Danielle argued. "You can't afford to lose control again, or you'll be thrown out."

" _Clara_ ," Tom said sharply. She began to cringe away from him, sure he was about to curse her. But he was staring at a white figure that had just floated through the wall in front of them.

Danielle recognized the girl with pigtails and large, round glasses right away. "Myrtle, what are you doing here?" she asked. "We're nowhere near your bathroom."

"I left because there's a _boy_ in it!" she wailed. "He was creeping around the sinks and kept turning the taps on and off."

Danielle looked anxiously at Tom, who had gone totally still. "What boy?" she demanded. When the ghost continued wailing, she spoke in a softer tone. "Who was it, Myrtle?"

"I don't know his name," she whined. "I've never seen him before, but he looked too tall to be a first-year. He had brown hair and green eyes—"

"Skender," Danielle breathed. "Did he say anything to you?"

The ghost shook her head, pigtails swinging from side to side. "He didn't even realize I was there. Of course, no one _ever_ notices Myr—"

She had to tell Dumbledore Skender was trying to open the Chamber of Secrets. What other reason would he have for snooping around the girls' bathroom? He had some nerve to do it on his first night at Hogwarts…

"Sorry, Myrtle, gotta go," Danielle said quickly. "I'll talk to you later, I promise." She grabbed Tom's hand and pulled him down the corridor into an empty classroom, where she shut the door firmly behind them. If someone happened to see, too bad. They could spread all the rumours they wanted—Danielle was easily amused.

"So," she said immediately. "Maybe you were right about Skender."

He glared down at her with hooded eyes. "What are you planning to do about it?"

"Tell Dumbledore. He's the only one we can trust."

"The only one _you_ can trust," Tom corrected. He crossed his arms. "Why must you insist on meddling with my affairs, Clara?"

"I'm _not_!" she protested. "I'm trying to help!"

"Are you?" he said smoothly. His eyes were cold and unreadable. "What good is it doing? Name one thing."

Danielle's mouth dropped open in disgust. "What _good_ is it doing? I saved your _life_ —"

"If you had never gotten involved in the first place my life would not need saving!" He bore down on her, eyes flashing.

This was too much. "You are unbelievable," Danielle hissed. "Fine, then, I'll stay out of your affairs." She pulled the door open, not bothering to look back at him before slamming it as hard as she could.

She shook with anger and frustration as she strode down the corridor, balling her hands into fists. What right did Tom have to say that she hadn't helped him? Thanks to her, he was taking potions to help his curse. She'd waited _two months_ in Albania for him! What had he even done for _her_? Saved her from a basilisk? No, that was to save _himself_ , not her.

Without consciously realizing it, Danielle found herself striding by Dumbledore's office as if some mysterious force had compelled her there. She doubled back and, taking deep breaths to calm herself, knocked on the door. Something told her he wouldn't be as understanding if she spent the entire visit screaming at him.

Luckily for her patience, Dumbledore opened the door right away. He had a pleasant smile on his face. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Miss Ashford?"

"There's no pleasure this time," Danielle said tautly. She took her customary seat in the chair across from the desk, declining his offer of a lemon drop.

With infuriating calmness, Dumbledore sat down facing her. "Is it Mr Riddle?" he asked.

"No," she said at once. When he merely continued smiling, she sighed. "Actually, yes and no. I have several problems, actually."

"Problems have never become any worse by talking about them," Dumbledore said serenely.

Danielle took that as her cue to begin, and she began telling him everything, from her dizzy spell on the train to the conversation with Myrtle. "I thought that things would get easier," she admitted. "But they're not…I'm still having nightmares about my family, Professor. I just feel—it just feels like there's nothing left for me."

"There are certainly things left for you," Dumbledore insisted. "You have friends who care about you very much, including Mr Riddle. Miss Ashford, I know there has been a lot on your plate…but there is a lot on Mr Riddle's plate as well."

"Are you trying to say that Tom is _worse off_ than me?" she asked. "Professor, I don't—"

"I didn't say that," he said. "You have certainly been through more traumatic experiences than he has. However, you have not had to live with a curse that is slowly draining away your life, either. I should think that Mr Riddle feels hopeless, because even with the potions he has still not found the diadem. Also, I should think that his feelings toward you are getting in the way of what he originally planned for himself. He might be trying to convince himself he doesn't care about you."

"Sir," Danielle said, trying to stay calm, "Tom is going to become the most infamous Dark wizard of all time. I don't think his feelings for me are at the forefront of his mind right now."

"Perhaps he is going to be, but he isn't quite there yet," Dumbledore explained. "Miss Ashford, I wouldn't worry about anything you told me tonight. I am sure your relationship with him will mend itself quickly. The incident on the train today was probably a mixture of stress and the Dementors. As for Mr Bardhi, I will keep a close watch on him. It is possible he was simply lost."

Danielle felt herself deflate and she stood up in defeat. His words hadn't helped her one bit. "I'll keep that in mind," she said dully. "Thanks, Professor."

Perhaps it was just her, but Dumbledore looked slightly agitated. _Of course,_ Danielle thought, _he probably has more important things to do than look after me._ Whatever he'd been talking about with Dippet certainly seemed important.

"Miss Ashford?" he asked as she was about to leave. When Danielle turned, he added, "Tell Madam Cutteridge to brew you some Dreamless Sleep potions. They should help with the nightmares."

She nodded and quietly left the room, feeling, if possible, worse than she had when she'd entered. Instead of being furious, she was miserable and disheartened.

Danielle was halfway to the Slytherin common room when she heard Tom's voice coming from down the hallway. She crept to the corner and peered around it. He appeared to be deep in conversation with Professor Slughorn, who held a bottle of gin in his hand.

"…My dear boy, I don't believe they have books about that kind of magic here!" Slughorn exclaimed. He squinted down at Tom, whose back was to Danielle.

"I am sorry, sir," Tom replied quickly. "I just thought it might give me extra credit in Defence Against the Dark Arts this year."

Slughorn hemmed and hawed until he was unable to resist the boy's charm. Danielle wondered how long he could keep up the innocent act. "All right, all right, Tom. What is it you want to hear more about?"

Tom spoke so quietly Danielle had to inch forward to hear him. "I was just wondering, sir, about Horcruxes."


	6. Against the World

If Danielle thought her day couldn't get any worse, well, it just had.

She shrank back behind the corner again, sinking to her knees and burying her face in her hands. Just yesterday, she'd been optimistic about the future. Now it felt as if there was no hope left.

She was feeling ill, Tom was angry at her, Skender was trying to open the Chamber of Secrets, and Tom was asking about Horcruxes. The worst part was that Dumbledore didn't even think there was a problem. Perhaps if she'd told him about the conversation she had just overheard, he would address the fact that yes; there was a very _big_ problem.

When Slughorn and Tom disappeared, Danielle forced herself to her feet and continued to the common room, realizing too late she was supposed to get the Dreamless Sleep potions from the hospital wing. Great—now she would have nightmares on top of everything else.

"Is there something wrong, Clara?" Alyssa asked when she caught sight of Danielle's face. "You look like you were just handed a death sentence."

"You know, that might not be too far off," Danielle mumbled. She smiled weakly at Dylan and Alphard before trudging up the stairs to her dormitory.

She wished she'd never even found the damn Time-Turner in the first place. Better to be in the future and bored than in the past and dead.

The Box of Desire still lay on her bedside table. Danielle flipped the lid open and sighed when she saw Tom's face staring back at her. Even after all she had been through, she still wanted him. She'd thought, even for a little while, that he might have felt the same way about her. But after he had treated her earlier…

Danielle put the box back down and crawled into bed, shaking with silent tears until she finally fell asleep.

* * *

She was awakened the next morning by Alyssa's jubilant voice. "Maybe she's gone forever!" she crowed.

Mind still foggy with sleep, Danielle opened her eyes to see the other girls crowded around Olive's bed. She hadn't showed up at the feast the previous night. Danielle wondered if she would come back to Hogwarts at all. It was by now a well-known fact that she was pregnant with Abraxas Malfoy's child. If that wasn't a reason to skip school, Danielle didn't know what was.

Of course, she had to continue on to Prefect duty with Tom. As usual, he was already waiting for her in the common room. Danielle hesitated when she saw him, wondering if she should speak first. But he greeted her with a cool nod and a "Good morning" like always—they were both careful to hide their relationship from everyone else, especially the Slytherins.

It was only when they were floors above everyone else that she spoke. "Are you still angry at me?"

Tom sighed, sounding exasperated. "I was not the one who stormed out of the room like a petulant child, Clara."

"Is that a 'no'?" Danielle asked, trying her best to sound playful. She had to swallow her pride and get back into his good graces.

"I think you should have realized by now that I would not wait for you if that were the case," Tom replied shortly. He turned his head and studied her face carefully. "Since you did not give a sufficient answer last night, I will ask again: what is the matter with you?"

" _Nothing,_ I said," Danielle shot back more severely than she intended. "Merlin, Tom—okay, look. I've been having nightmares."

"About what?"

"My family. Happy now?"

"No," he said solemnly. "You have never mentioned your family before, Clara. What else is wrong?"

 _I'll tell you what's wrong,_ she wanted to snarl, but it didn't take much to predict what the outcome of _that_ would be. "Since when have you cared?" she mumbled.

He didn't answer.

* * *

On their way past the hospital wing Danielle decided to pick up the Dreamless Sleep potions Dumbledore had recommended. While she was waiting for Madam Cutteridge to fetch them, she looked over at Tom. His face was emotionless as usual, but she couldn't help feeling that she'd been too sharp with him. _You have not had to live with a curse that is slowly draining your life away,_ Dumbledore had said. It was true that perhaps she'd been too self-centered, but now what should she do with the fact he was still asking about Horcruxes?

Danielle reached over and took his hand in hopes it would convey that she had no hard feelings toward him. He looked at her suspiciously. "I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. He didn't make a move in response but didn't flinch away either, an encouraging sign.

Madam Cutteridge was one of the few who knew that they were more than acquaintances, so Danielle didn't bother to move away when she reappeared. She took the potions with a murmured thanks and couldn't help grinning when the nurse shook her head at Tom and reprimanded: "Where were you yesterday? You're supposed to take your potions every day, young man."

"I apologize, ma'am," he said mutely. Danielle shot him a sly glare and he regarded her with a deceptively innocent look.

"Here," Madam Cutteridge said, shoving a small bottle into Tom's hand. "Make sure he drinks that, will you, Miss Ashford?"

"Sure thing," Danielle said happily.

They were just about to leave the hospital wing when an extremely tall, imposing male figure strode into the room. Danielle recognized him as the man Alyssa had pointed out the previous night. He had dark hair streaked with greying lines and his eyes were narrowed and not friendly in the least.

"Professor Holstone," Madam Cutteridge said, taking a step toward the strange man. "What can I do for you today?"

He cast a sharp glance at Tom and Danielle. "The first thing to do would be to get them out," he ordered.

Danielle tried to pull Tom away, but he was glaring at Holstone so viciously she felt she would be incinerated if she stepped into his path. "Come on," she whispered in his ear. "Let's go."

It was only after Holstone broke the stare that Tom allowed her to lead him out of the hospital wing and down the nearest corridor.

"What was that about?" Danielle asked.

"He is from the Ministry of Magic," Tom hissed. "He was sent here especially by Dippet to keep an eye on me."

Danielle frowned, confused. He'd been glaring at the Headmaster with absolute loathing last night. Why would Dippet hire someone who hated him and made no effort to conceal it?

She didn't realize that Tom was shaking until he audibly clenched his jaw. It took Danielle several valuable moments before she realized what was happening. "No," she muttered, furtively looking around to make sure no one was in sight. "Calm down, Tom, _please_ …"

But it was too late—skipping the potion had cost him. He bent over and began to cough, gasping for air. Remembering what Dumbledore had once done, Danielle conjured up a bucket and threw it at his face just as he started to cough up blood.

Tom hadn't been ill for a very long time, and his weakening color showed that his body wasn't used to it. He had to hold onto the wall for support as his shuddering coughs filled the air. Danielle watched his eyes closely; after the first coughing fit she saw his irises were beginning to tinge red.

She suddenly had an idea. It had worked one time—she would have to hope it would work again. Danielle pulled his face toward hers and gently kissed him, trying to ignore the coppery taste of his blood on her lips. It took him a few seconds, but he eventually responded and sank to the floor, gripping her tightly. Danielle surreptitiously wiped a spot of blood from her mouth and Vanished the bucket.

They must look a pathetic pair, collapsed in the middle of a hallway holding onto each other. A year ago, Danielle would never have imagined her feelings would run so deep for Tom Riddle that she would kiss him even while his lips were covered in blood.

It was the stuff of Muggle fairytales: she was the inexperienced, foolish girl who had fallen for the mysterious boy, and Tom was her dark prince. She loved him, but wasn't naïve to think that that alone would save them.


	7. Warning

Danielle came out of her first day of classes feeling overwhelmed. Sixth-year N.E.W.T. classes would be much more difficult than she'd envisioned.

"I think I'm going to ask if I can move my bed to the library," she groaned at dinner. "It's the only way I'll pass this year."

"Cheer up," Dylan told her. "If Lyssa can do it, you'll be able to."

Danielle glanced over at Alyssa and Alphard, who were whispering into each other's ears. She turned her gaze back to Dylan and he grimaced. "Well, _I_ think they're sweet together," Danielle said.

"Not when they're constantly like that," Dylan grumbled.

Danielle paused, knowing that Alyssa and Alphard's newfound relationship was a touchy subject for him. "How are you and…er…Felicity doing?" she asked, referring to the Muggle girl he was currently involved with.

"As great as we can get without me telling her I'm a wizard," Dylan muttered. He glared at her with what she imagined was an accusing look, silently chastising her for reminding him.

"Clara!" a high-pitched voice called, and she turned to see Erik running toward her, his Hufflepuff robes falling off his scrawny body and his hair sticking out in all directions. "How was your day?"

"Busy," she answered. The other Slytherins were giving both of them dirty looks and Danielle tried her best to ignore them. "What about you?"

"I was late for Potions and Professor Slughorn gave me detention," he said. "I tried to tell him it was because a ghost had given me the wrong directions, but he didn't believe me."

"What ghost?" Danielle asked.

"He was an old man dressed in a bright green jumper—"

"Oh, you mean Peeves," Dylan interjected. "Don't talk to him. He's just a poltergeist."

Erik seemed to shrink in his chair—a difficult feat, since he was already quite short to begin with. "I don't think that will change the professor's mind," he said sadly.

Up at the staff table, Dippet cleared his throat. "If everyone would sit at their house tables," he began, looking pointedly at Erik, "I have an announcement to make."

Everyone's heads turned to the Slytherin table. Erik scrambled out of his seat and over to the Hufflepuffs so fast he tripped on his robes and rolled across the floor. While the students laughed, he plopped into his seat, face cherry red.

"I presume you all know by now," Dippet began, "That the Dark wizard Grindelwald has conquered most of Europe. I have just received word that Italy fell to him earlier today.

"Although Britain is still standing strong, the Ministry of Magic wants me to warn you that an attack could occur at any moment. He suggests assembling an army of sorts to defend ourselves, should the need arise."

Excited and nervous chatter instantly broke out across the Hall. "I'm in," Dylan said at once. "I want to fight."

Alyssa looked incredulous. "Dylan, you're sixteen," she pointed out. "What sort of fight could you realistically put up against a fully grown, trained wizarding army? Make them laugh themselves to death?"

"He has a point, Lyssa," Alphard said. "I want to join as well."

She tossed her head. "Well, _I_ think stupid recklessness is a job we should leave to the Gryffindors."

Danielle deliberately avoided joining in the conversation, pretending to be focused on stirring her soup. She had no idea what to make of Hogwarts forming an army, nor did she know what to do if Grindelwald _did_ end up attacking the school.

The worst part was, she was sure this hadn't happened in the original timeline.

* * *

Tom had been in the library for the past hour, staying concealed under a Disillusionment Charm. A stack of books stood on the desk he was sitting at, most of them dusty and ancient-looking. So far, his search had proven to be unsuccessful.

Slughorn hadn't been any help whatsoever in telling him what he'd wanted to know about Horcruxes other than suggesting he check the Restricted Section. Tom had barely refrained from telling the old professor that he could have gotten exactly the same advice from someone like Abraxas Malfoy, who was apparently deemed fit to be the sole inheritor of the Malfoy fortune but couldn't even bother to prepare a contraceptive potion before having relations with Olive Hornby.

Tom balanced another book on the desk, not expecting to find anything of interest. Being as opposed to the Dark Arts as he was, Dumbledore had probably banned all books that even alluded to Horcruxes.

But this time, Tom wasn't disappointed as his watchful eyes skimmed across the very word seconds after. _"…of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction…"_

"Useless," he muttered, slamming the book on top of the already-towering pile. The incompetent authors shouldn't have even be allowed to put quill to parchment.

A clamoring of voices sounded in the distance and Tom inwardly rolled his eyes as he heard Alyssa MacDougal's grating, whiny voice as she babbled on about how difficult their classes would be. He remembered the first time he'd ever seen her, during which she'd complained about how she was terrified about falling into the lake during the boat ride up to Hogwarts. Now Tom fervently wished he'd pushed her in.

A few seconds later he heard Clara's voice and he barely suppressed a sigh. She would find him, of course. He'd told her he would be in the library, though he hadn't specified exactly what he was searching for.

"Where's Tom?" Alyssa asked. "Riddle! Are you in here?"

"I think I saw him over by the Potions section," Clara replied. As Alyssa's voice faded away, Tom levitated the books back to their proper places and lifted the Disillusionment Charm off himself just in time to see her peering through a bookshelf at him. "You're welcome," she said.

Tom waited for her to circle around to where he stood, her dark hair looking even curlier than usual. "I appreciate the sentiment," he said sardonically, crossing his arms. "Judging by the way Miss MacDougal is acting as though she has just been expelled, I assume something happened at dinner."

Clara shrugged. "Dippet told us Grindelwald is planning to invade England and he wants Hogwarts to form an army—you know, the usual."

"I presume you will join, then?" Tom asked, raising an eyebrow. He could barely picture her dueling one of the MacDougal twins, much less fighting an army.

She snorted. "I'm not suicidal. What books were you looking at anyway?"

"I was merely doing some research so as to get extra credit in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he lied smoothly. "I suggest that _you_ do so as well."

"As if you need the extra credit!" Clara scoffed. "Tom Riddle, needing remedial Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

Tom frowned at her, irritated. What right did she have to pry into his affairs? "I think it would be wise to remember that—"

"Clara!" Alyssa screeched, coming up behind Tom. "You told me he was over there."

"I was mistaken," Clara said flatly. She gave him a piercing stare and then averted her eyes away, looking disturbed.

Not for the first time, Tom had the unsettling feeling that Clara Ashford knew much more than she let on.


	8. Reassurance

It was two weeks into the school year when Olive Hornby finally came back to Hogwarts. She simply strode into the dormitory while the girls were getting ready for bed, looking skinnier than ever, as if nothing had happened. She refused to answer the questions everyone threw at her and was back to her normal self within hours.

"Apparently she gave the baby up for adoption," Alyssa whispered to Danielle. "I feel bad for the child's future parents—who would want to raise the spawn of Hornby and Malfoy?"

"Someone very reckless," Danielle muttered back. She could only imagine what the child would turn out to be.

Olive's return wasn't the only talk around the school. The new Ministry teacher, Professor Holstone, taught Ancient Runes and was apparently the strictest teacher one could have. Danielle was eternally thankful that she wasn't taking Ancient Runes—his disdain for the students was obvious. So if he hated Hogwarts so much, why had Dippet hired him? Was he just that proficient at keeping an eye on Tom? Could he perhaps have known someone else who was afflicted with Vetus Periculosus?

One day in early October, Danielle arrived to Defense Against the Dark Arts to find Holstone standing at the front of the classroom. The class grumbled unhappily as they walked in; his reputation had quickly spread throughout the school.

"Sir, where is Professor Merrythought?" Alphard asked.

Holstone looked coldly at him. "She is ill at the moment, so I will be teaching today."

Danielle twisted around to look at Tom, whose head was bent over his textbook, revealing nothing of his true emotions. As she turned back around she felt an abrupt dizziness, and she shook her head in hopes it would clear.

"Now," Holstone began when the last of the students had filed in, "Galatea is an efficient teacher, but she, and most of the other professors, wish to keep you ignorant of the situation that is currently unfolding outside of these walls. I am a firm believer in not sugarcoating you with useless information, so you might find that your classes with me differ than the rest. I'm not here for you to like me; I'm here to teach what you need to know."

The class was silent, glancing nervously at one another. Danielle and Alyssa exchanged a worried look.

"I presume you have all heard of Boggarts?" Holstone continued. When everyone reluctantly nodded, he went over to one of the storage cabinets lining the far wall and rapped sharply on the door. There was a muffled answering knock from inside. "Then you know that Boggarts transform into one's worst fear, and they can be banished by a simple incantation. These, on the other hand, are much more corporeal. They are called Metusas, Boggarts bred with Dementors—"

"How can you breed them together?" Alyssa asked loudly. Holstone shot her a withering glare.

"—And, as a result, show you not just one fear, but several of your worst fears put together, since, as I'm sure you all know, you can have more than one major fear. Word has it that Grindelwald is using them, so if there is an attack on Hogwarts you can be sure there will be a few of these around."

Alyssa's hand shot up again. "Sir, this isn't what Professor Merrythought was teaching us. Are you sure the Headmaster would allow us to—"

"I am sure of it, Miss MacDougal," Holstone snapped.

"How does he know your name?" Danielle whispered to her. She shrugged, glaring up at him with evident dislike.

"…In order to combat these creatures, you must _confront your fear_. Simply laughing will not banish them. You must be able to look squarely at it without a trace of fear. In short, you have to _control your emotions_. Whether or not you are actually feeling fear is irrelevant." Holstone looked around at the class. "Any questions?"

Luckily, Angela Greengrass put her hand up this time. "So all we have to do is not react?" she asked in her serene, quiet voice.

Holstone nodded. "You will find that it is quite difficult, however. Any volunteers?"

The students were shocked. Not only would they have to face their darkest fears in front of their classmates, they would have to be completely emotionless at the sight. Danielle felt her heart already beginning to race.

When nobody came forward, Holstone pursed his lips in disapproval. "Here," he said, and the cabinet opened with a snap. Immediately, an gigantic werewolf jumped out, hackles raised and growling. Behind it was a mass of Flobberworms that slowly oozed across the floor.

The creatures slowly advanced until Danielle was sure they were going to attack him. Holstone stood perfectly still, staring at his worst fears as if he was merely reading a book. The werewolf growled menacingly, drool dripping from its exposed fangs, but the professor didn't react. Just as its enormous yellow teeth were about to close over him and the Flobberworms were about to touch his robes, the illusions disappeared.

The class broke into shaky applause. Holstone turned to the front. "You," he said, looking right at Alyssa. "Up."

She would have had to pay for her comments sometime, Danielle figured. Alyssa stood up and slowly walked to the front of the class. Her chin was raised in defiance, but there was a definite trembling of her hands as she faced the cabinet.

"Remember, do _not_ react or use magic," Holstone instructed. "I suspect this will be difficult for many of you." He opened the door, and this time a truly horrific-looking creature stepped it. Danielle couldn't tell whether it was human or not—it was so disfigured. Next to it was an enormous slug, oozing slime onto the floor.

Alyssa began to tremble and shake, her eyes widening. "Get it away," she ordered, covering her face as the zombie-creature and giant slug advanced on her. " _Please_."

With a disappointed sigh, Holstone waved his wand and the apparitions vanished. "What part of 'don't react' do you not understand?" he chastised. He looked around the class again and pointed at a Ravenclaw boy. "Mr Chartrand!" he instructed. "Next!|

Looking visibly pale, the boy did as he was told, facing the cabinet with little more bravado than Alyssa. Holstone wasted no time in opening it—a bloody mummy lay on the floor, with a deformed, mutilated baby next to it.

Chartrand literally fell to the floor, tears in his eyes. "No—" he choked, and with a jolt Danielle realized he was seeing his family dead. "Help—"

Holstone didn't banish the creature this time—he was watching the boy emotionlessly. "Don't react!" he ordered, but Chartrand was too far gone.

"Stop it!" Danielle found herself crying out. "He's going to faint!"

There was a puff of smoke and the bodies were gone. "Well," Holstone said, "Would you like to take his place, then?" He roughly grabbed Chartrand by his collar and heaved the boy up, shoving him back in the direction of his seat.

Danielle's stomach churned as she regretted her mistake. The eyes of the class were upon her as she woodenly stood up and walked to the front of the classroom. Even Tom had taken his attention off his textbook.

"I would never have expected a Slytherin to be so… _noble_ ," Holstone said in a low voice to her, so quietly that the rest of the class couldn't hear. Danielle shot him a terrified glance, unable to mask her fear. She had no idea what would appear to her—a Dementor? Voldemort? What if he was something that revealed her secret? How could she get out of this one?

"Take a deep breath," Holstone said. Just as Danielle inhaled, he threw open the door and she was suddenly engulfed by a wave of cold air as the classroom disappeared.

She was standing in the Shrieking Shack in the midst of a pile of bodies—Andy, her mother and father lay strewed around her. A tall, hooded figure with glowing red eyes stepped out of the mist and pointed his wand at her. Screams echoed in Danielle's ears as she felt everything begin to spin. She was struck by the worst wave of dizziness she ever felt—it was an out-of-body experience. She could see the floor rushing up to meet her, but she couldn't feel the impact. Her entire body went weak and she could barely move her arms.

There was shouting somewhere above her and someone grabbed her arm, but Danielle fell to the ground again, too weak to move. Spots were dancing in front of her eyes.

Someone grabbed her and lifted her up into their arms. Danielle couldn't even muster the strength to open her eyes as she felt the steady rhythm of the person walking. The sounds around her were warped and distorted and she couldn't distinguish individual words.

Finally, she felt herself being dropped onto something soft and a bitter liquid was poured down her throat. Danielle slowly began to regain her strength until she could hear again.

"…almost fainted," Madam Cutteridge's voice was saying. "Has this happened before?"

"Not that I know of," Dylan answered. "I carried her up here."

"What was Professor Merrythought having you lot do anyway?"

"She wasn't there—Professor Holstone was teaching us. He made her face a Metusa."

Madam Cutteridge clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "I knew he was a bad egg, but the Headmaster insisted he was here for our protection…"

"Protection from what?" Dylan asked.

 _From Tom,_ Danielle thought. How much did Holstone know about him, anyway? Surely he had to know about his curse.

Dimly, she heard the hospital wing doors swing open. "You wished to see me, Julia?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

Danielle had never been more grateful to hear his voice. She managed to open her eyes, and saw Madam Cutteridge and Dylan standing over her. He grinned in relief when he saw she was awake.

"Mr MacDougal claims that Professor Holstone made her face a Metusa and she almost fainted," Madam Cutteridge explained.

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. If you would be so kind as to go back to class, Mr MacDougal, you may tell them that Miss Ashford will be fine."

Dylan nodded and hurried out of the hospital wing. "I gave her a Strengthening Solution," Madam Cutteridge said. "It seems to be working. The fear must have gotten to her."

"Thank you, Julia," Dumbledore said. "I would like a word alone with Miss Ashford now, if you wouldn't mind." Madam Cutteridge looked mildly annoyed, but she retreated back into her office.

"Sir," Danielle said when it was quiet again, "It wasn't the fear. I _was_ scared, but this was something else…"

Dumbledore looked concerned. "Are you ill?"

"I don't think so…I feel fine now. I've occasionally felt like this over the past few weeks—I feel sick for a moment, then I go back to being perfectly normal."

"Do you remember when the symptoms began?"

"The day we went back to Hogwarts," Danielle answered. "When the Dementors were on the train, I nearly fainted as well, but that was nowhere near as bad as this."

"All right. Do you mind accompanying me to my office? We can talk freely there—if you are sure that you're better, of course."

"I am." Danielle stood up, seemingly fully recovered, and followed him down to his office. When he offered her his customary lemon drops, she gladly took one, suddenly ravenous.

"I would like to offer you an apology, Clara," Dumbledore said frankly. "I have been so busy with the problems concerning Hogwarts that I must seem like I do not care about you, or that I am dismissing _your_ problems. That is not the case." Dumbledore inclined his head to her. "I have been trying to help you out as well."

"Thank you, sir," Danielle replied.

"I believe I can reassure you, perhaps not about your strange illness, but with some of your other concerns. You mentioned to me that Mr Bardhi was in the second-floor girls' bathroom, and you suspected he was looking for the Chamber of Secrets. Well, I am rather good at being able to tell when someone is lying, if I do say so myself, and when I questioned him he admitted that he was, in fact, lost. I assure you that there was no malicious intent to it."

Danielle felt a wave of relief. "That's nice to know."

"And now for the next thing. As you are aware, Armando has ordered that Professor Holstone keep an eye on Mr Riddle. He does not know what Mr Riddle is afflicted with specifically, but he does know to keep a close watch on him. After what he tried to teach you today, I suggest you stay clear out of his path. The only people in the school who know the details of Mr Riddle's curse are you, I, Armando, Julia Cutteridge, and Mr Riddle himself. I am quite hoping it stays that way." Dumbledore smiled at her. "Mr Riddle is taking his potion every day instead of every week now, and he seems to be improving. Wouldn't you agree?"

Danielle nodded. "Sir, I did…see him looking for books on Horcruxes, though."

"Rest assured that I have taken everything of use out of his sight," Dumbledore replied. "He still has several years to find the diadem."

"Thank you, sir," Danielle repeated. "I feel much better now."

"Good," Dumbledore said. "Now, I believe the next thing you should do is, to use the expression, beat Professor Holstone at his own game by returning to class, so if you're convinced that you're fine then I would advise you to go back."

Mentally preparing herself for the deluge of questions she would surely receive, Danielle stood up, thanked the professor once more, and went back to class feeling a great deal better.


	9. Deepening Mystery

Everyone went silent when Danielle re-entered the classroom. Keeping her head down, she slunk back to her seat next to Alyssa. Holstone gave her a piercing glare but continued on with the lesson. Apparently he had tried a different tack after she'd had to be carried out.

"Lyssa, what did you see?" Danielle murmured to her friend.

Alyssa glanced over at her worriedly. "A weird hooded figure—was it a Dementor? And there were bodies lying on the ground. I didn't get a good look at them though."

Danielle wondered if anyone else had noticed the "Dementor" was holding a wand. She surreptitiously turned back to see Tom, but he didn't even spare a look in her direction.

When class ended, Holstone swept over to her. "I see you are feeling better, Miss Ashford," he said in a monotone. "I should hope you are better prepared next time."

 _Next time_? Danielle bristled, but she forced herself to keep her voice polite as she answered, "I will be, Professor."

She sensed someone moving behind her and saw Tom's long-fingered, pale hand positioned on her desk. "Ah, Mr Riddle," Holstone said. "I was hoping to speak to you."

"Of course, Professor," he said smoothly. Danielle gathered up her books and looked over at him. His face was, like always, a blank mask. As Holstone walked back up to his desk, she whispered in Tom's ear, "I'll wait for you outside."

His slight intake of breath told her that he had heard, and Danielle wordlessly got up and left the classroom, deliberately leaving the door ajar. She hovered just out of sight, hoping she was still in earshot of the conversation.

"What is it you wish to speak to me about?" Tom asked.

"I should think it obvious," Holstone sharply replied. "You have at most three years to live. Are you not doing anything about it?"

There was a long silence before Tom said, "With all due respect, Professor, I do not believe that is any of your business."

"I am merely trying to help you," Holstone answered. Danielle could detect a hint of impatience in his otherwise calm tone. "Have you done your research? Are you prepared to do whatever it takes to be cured?"

Danielle was confused. Dumbledore had told her that Holstone didn't know exactly what Tom was afflicted with, so how was he coming across this information? Surely Tom hadn't told him…

"Stop it!" a voice shrilly cried, and Danielle narrowly avoided being knocked to the ground by a stray spell. Erik was sprinting down the hallway, with two seventh-year Slytherins in hot pursuit. They laughed and jeered at him as he hit the opposite wall and fell to the ground, lifeless.

Irritated, Danielle raised her wand and was prepared to send a countercurse back at them, but she was beaten to it. Skender shot a jinx at the Slytherins and they were soon covered in ugly, bulbous yellow boils. Swearing in pain, they fled the scene and the tall Ravenclaw roughly pulled Erik to his feet.

"Get out of here!" he snapped. "Are you not bright enough to realize they will bully you? _Go_!"

Covering his bleeding noise with the sleeve of his robe, Erik ran away and Skender turned to Danielle. She stared at him, bewildered. "Why did you help him?"

"Why would I not?" he replied, walking up to her. "Who are you waiting for?"

"Tom," she answered. "He's just talking to Professor Holstone."

"Ah, I see," Skender said. He was staring into her eyes, and she quickly tried to block her mind.

When a throbbing headache began to form in the back of her skull, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind in a panicked effort to distract him. "I, er—I heard you were in the girls' bathroom."

His eyes narrowed. "Who told you that?"

"Myrtle," she said honestly. "I was just wondering—I mean, she seemed pretty upset about it—"

To her surprise, Skender looked embarrassed. "I was lost," he said. "I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone."

"No, of course not," Danielle assured. This certainly seemed to back up what Dumbledore had said…so why had Myrtle reported that he'd been looking around the sinks?

"My question is, how are you feeling, Clara?" he asked.

Danielle was momentarily taken aback. He was looking at her concernedly, almost as if he knew about her odd illness. "I'm fine," she said, barely noticing that the classroom door had reopened and Tom was standing beside her.

"Good afternoon, Mr Bardhi," he said. "Do you have anywhere to be?"

Shooting him a cold, decisive glare, Skender turned and brushed past them without another word. Danielle looked up at Tom. "What did Professor Holstone want to talk to you about?" she asked, feigning innocence.

Of course he didn't tell her. "Nothing of importance," he said immediately. "Why did you come back to class?"

Well, two could play at that game. "Madam Cutteridge said it would be fine," Danielle lied. "I was feeling better anyway."

They walked in silence to the Entrance Hall before parting ways: Danielle to Herbology and Tom to Arithmancy. Seeing that the area was deserted, Danielle placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him hard, molding her lips to his before pulling away and turning around without looking back. As she left, she could literally feel his eyes burning a hole into the back of her head. Smiling, Danielle raised her hand to her mouth, holding on to the memory of his warm lips as long as possible.

* * *

"Tom!" Abraxas Malfoy strode pompously up to him after Clara had disappeared outside. "Where were you?"

Instantly, Tom snapped back into his detached, unfeeling demeanor. "I was speaking to Professor Holstone, Abraxas," he said quietly. "And if your result on the last test is anything to judge by, I would suggest you do so as well."

"Tom, all of us are wondering what you're planning on doing," Abraxas hissed. "Are you still going ahead with opening the Chamber or not? Macnair is telling me that—"

"I do not believe any of you have earned my trust," Tom said sharply. "When any of you prove that you are more intelligent than a pile of Flobberworms, you may pose that question again."

Abraxas stiffened, looking angry. "It's because of Ashford, right?" he asked.

"No," Tom said, lifting his chin. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have other things to do than answer your silly questions—"

"You're shagging her, aren't you?" Abraxas asked, an odd light in his eyes. "You've changed ever since she showed up, Tom. I know it—"

Within seconds, Abraxas was frozen stiff, eyes bulging while Tom glared at him, his pupils flickering red. " _Never_ ," he ordered in a calm, dangerous voice, "say her name again."

Abraxas fell to the ground, gasping for air. When his vision cleared and his face had returned to its normal colour, he unsteadily got to his feet and pulled out his wand, ready to perform a curse.

But Tom was gone.


	10. Back to London

Danielle kept silent about her strange illness for the next two months, despite the symptoms getting worse. She hadn't felt nearly as bad as she had in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but she would suddenly stumble or feel dizzy at the most inopportune times. Sometimes she would black out and have to take several deep breaths before she could see properly again. The episodes were becoming more and more frequent, but she refused to tell anyone. She didn't want to worry Dumbledore, not when he was so concentrated on the happenings outside of the castle.

Tom was being himself, cold and indifferent as usual. Danielle didn't see him reading any more books that might contain information about Horcruxes—at least, not when she was around. She hoped Dumbledore had made good on his word to hide all the offending texts. At the very least, it was obvious that his power was dwindling. He was consistently performing below average in school and Danielle had even beaten him in some tests, which frightened her and infuriated him. She could feel his desperation growing stronger as the only thing that could save him—his power—was steadily draining away.

Seemingly overnight, the brilliantly coloured leaves fell off the trees and a chill fell over the grounds. The first snowfall came late that November and the students were rewarded with hot cocoa instead of pumpkin juice during meals. Danielle now had to brave snowstorms and falling icicles in order to get to Herbology and since Alyssa insisted on bringing her to the twins' Quidditch matches, she had become quite adept at casting small, containable fires.

One day in early December Danielle finally put her foot down and hid in the Prefects' common room instead of going to watch the game like the rest of the school. She was engrossed in a book when Tom walked in. "Pace yourself, Clara," he said dryly as he glanced over at her. "You will have finished this entire library by the end of the holidays."

She shrugged. "I suppose I'll have to sneak some to the orphanage."

Tom slowly turned back around to her, his mask slipping to reveal a look of mingled revulsion and disbelief. "You are going back to the orphanage?"

Danielle hadn't thought about this problem before. Of course, Tom wouldn't want to go back for the holidays. "Yes," she said. "I suppose you're staying here, then."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why do you want to go back there?" he asked in disgust. "You will risk getting killed in an air-raid."

"Because I promised Billy I would," Danielle hotly replied. "Do you have a problem with that?"

He shot her a poisonous glare before striding out of the room.

Danielle sighed and stretched out on the couch, ignoring the slight rush of dizziness she felt. She had no energy to deal with anything anymore; not even to follow Tom like she would have once done. She was sluggish; even her brain felt like it was working slowly. It wasn't as sharp as it had once been. Normally she would be in the library, searching for ways to find the diadem or prevent Tom's curse, but for the past several months all she had wanted to do was sleep. At least her nightmares no longer plagued her, thanks to the large supply of Dreamless Sleep potions Dumbledore had given her.

She would surely miss Tom, but a part of her wanted to go back to London, despite how dangerous it was. Maybe someone there would have an idea about what was going on with her or know ways they could sneak out of Britain. Next summer, if Europe was still occupied, she would ask Tom if he wanted to go to Albania. She hoped she would have gotten over whatever illness was plaguing her by then.

* * *

Danielle thoroughly searched the castle for Tom before leaving, but couldn't find him anywhere. She boarded the Hogwarts Express with a heavy heart: they had been growing apart since the beginning of the school year, and it wasn't just because they had to feign indifference. It put even more strain on her already frayed nerves.

Alyssa, Dylan and Alphard were going to Spain again during the holidays—Dylan was thrilled he would get to see Felicity again, while Alyssa and Alphard were happy they would get to spend time alone. From what Danielle could tell, their parents were delighted by the match. Since Alyssa and Alphard were both pure-blood, their future children would safely carry on the family name.

"Why so gloomy, Clara?" Dylan asked halfway through the ride. "You've barely said a word today."

"She's missing Tom already," teased Alyssa. "I'm sure they had a snogging session before we left."

"No, we didn't," Danielle said firmly. "I haven't seen him at all today, actually."

An awkward silence ensued. "Riddle's been acting a bit strange lately," Alphard finally offered. "He's been doing poorly on his schoolwork. It's not at all like him."

"Do you know what's going on?" Alyssa asked her.

Danielle met her eyes guiltily and glanced down at her feet. "No," she lied. "I think he's just a bit stressed."

Dylan snorted. "Riddle? Stressed? I've never even seen him sweat. But I think it has something to do with what's wrong with him."

He looked closely at Danielle, who let out a sharp intake of breath. The twins and Alphard knew well enough that Tom was ill, but she had never divulged the exact details. "I don't think so," she said. "He's gotten over that."

"He has?" Alyssa said curiously. "I thought you said he didn't find Ravenclaw's diadem. Wasn't that what he was looking for?"

"He didn't find it," Danielle replied, and refused to say another word on the matter. She knew it wasn't fair to lie to her friends like this, but Tom would murder her—possibly literally—if he found out.

* * *

She made her way to the Prefects' meeting reluctantly, not keen to listen to the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws argue pretentiously about who had primary usage of their private common room during exam time. Danielle took her seat next to Tom's empty one, feeling his absence more acutely than ever.

But just as the meeting was about to begin, the compartment door slid open and Tom himself stepped in, looking politely interested. "I hope I am not too late," he said quietly, taking his seat next to an open-mouthed Danielle.

"No, you're not," the self-appointed Ravenclaw leader, Adela Patil, said smugly. "Now that everyone's here, let's talk about the matter of students having unauthorized parties in their common rooms and taking the house-elves for granted…"

Danielle barely listened to the debate—she was too busy marveling at the fact that Tom had chosen to come back to London. He despised the orphanage.

When the meeting was finished at least, Danielle, still reeling in shock, followed him outside and into an empty compartment. "Why did you come back?" she asked.

"I am not leaving you on the own, Clara," he said firmly. "You have a penchant for spreading disaster wherever you go."

She narrowed her eyes, unsure whether to believe his words. Was that just another way of saying he didn't _want_ to leave her on her own? "I appreciate your trust in me," she said sarcastically.

Tom smirked, mouth twisting upward, and Danielle's heart stuttered. She was sick of the distance between them, sick of trying to keep their relationship a secret. She threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed her mouth against his, willing him to respond.

To her delight, he hesitantly kissed her back. Tom pushed her back several steps, pinning Danielle to the wall so she couldn't get away.

She couldn't hide her elation; he very rarely took control in these situations. Pulling back slightly, she whispered, "Why the sudden affection?"

"Shhh, Clara," he murmured, his mouth upon hers again. This kiss was different from their previous ones; there seemed almost a desperate need to it. They didn't break apart until they both heard footsteps in the hallway, relieved to see it was only Alphard. He rolled his eyes at them and winked before pulling down the curtain, casting the compartment into darkness.

"I see Mr Black has a sense of humour," Tom said. Danielle sat down on the seat beside him, keeping their hands intertwined. She opened her mouth and was about to tell him about her bizarre illness, but decided against it a second later. She didn't want to disturb this fleeting moment of peace; they were so rare these days.


	11. Another Arrival

To Danielle's confusion, Mrs Cole wasn't waiting for them at King's Cross. She sighed and stopped in the middle of the crowd, trying to catch the faint smell of gin that would perhaps signal the orphanage head was somewhere close by. Tom stopped beside her, unable to hide his disgust as a Muggle man accidentally brushed past him.

"You think we can get to the orphanage on our own?" she asked glumly, watching Alistair flap his wings impatiently, unhappy at being locked in his cage.

"I suppose so," Tom replied stiffly. "It seems as though there is no other choice."

They made their way out of the station and into the weak daylight. There had obviously been a recent air-raid—the buildings on one side of the street were crushed, their roofs caved in and their foundations crumbling. Danielle tried not to think about how many more casualties or homeless people there were now.

London was a shadow of what it once was: instead of grand, ancient buildings there were piles of rubble and ashes. Danielle nearly choked on the smoke that filled the hazy air and the despair of the inhabitants at having to endure years of destruction seemed to physically weigh her down. She remembered the London of _her_ time; the city with the skyscrapers and the glassy, modern look that didn't look as if it had ever gone through a war this catastrophic. It had slowly rebuilt itself, and Danielle wondered, after all she had been through, if she could ever repair herself like London had.

They wove deeper through the broken city, Danielle trying her hardest to keep up with Tom. But he was taller and therefore faster than she was, and she soon found herself having to nearly run to keep up with him. At one point he disappeared entirely, and she stopped in the middle of the road, looking around nervously.

When she finally spotted Tom out of the corner of her eye she grinned in relief. "Thank Merlin you're—" she began, but as he got closer she realized it wasn't Tom after all. This man was much older, with a lined face and a gray-streaked, receding hairline—but the perfectly symmetrical features were the same, as was the pale skin and the arrogant look in his eyes. The man gave Danielle a repulsed glare and climbed into one of the streetcars parked along the sidewalk. She heard a distant, girlish giggle from inside and a smooth, polished voice replied, " _Really_ , Cecilia. Don't be so childish."

Danielle watched the car pull away, thoroughly stunned. There was an exasperated sigh from behind her and the real Tom asked, "What is the problem now?"

"Did you see that?" she asked, but the car had already disappeared.

"What?" Tom replied, looking displeased.

"That man looked exactly like you," she began, trailing off as his eyes narrowed in displeasure. He hated being compared to others, especially Muggles.

Her mind continued racing as the neared the orphanage, Danielle replaying the quick encounter. Perhaps she was just seeing things—she wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be the truth.

As always, Tom slowed down when they got to the grim, forbidding building he had been born in. Danielle gave him an encouraging smile before heading inside first. "Hello?" she called.

Mrs Cole immediately rushed down the stairs, looking frenzied. "Clara, Tom, I am so sorry!" she cried. "We just had a new arrival and everything completely slipped my mind. I'm glad to see you both got here in one piece, at any rate."

"It's all right," Danielle replied, watching Tom gave a cool nod to the matron and disappearing upstairs. "Can I help?"

"Actually, I think you'll have to. Since we're completely full, you and her will be sharing a room. She's only staying here temporarily, like you. That strange Professor Dumbydore explained that she's going to your school after the holidays."

"Professor _Dumbledore_?" Danielle asked in shock. "He was here?"

"Yes, he just left," Mrs Cole said absent-mindedly. "She's been living in New Zealand since the war started and came back here after her parents were killed—they were spies for Britain."

"That's too bad," Danielle said weakly as a girl about her age came out of a nearby room. She had shoulder-length light brown hair and large green eyes.

"Clara, this is Georgina Taylor. Georgina, this is Clara Ashford. She goes to the school you'll be attending—what was it called? Hoggywash?"

"Hogwarts," Georgina said in a strong voice. She strode over to Danielle and shook her hand with a bone-crushing grip. "Very nice to meet you, Clara."

"You too," Danielle winced, surreptitiously trying to ascertain if her hand would ever move again. What happened to the delicate handshakes girls of this time gave? Perhaps customs were different in New Zealand. But she had a distinctly English accent…

"I was born in Coventry," Georgina said as if she had read Danielle's mind. "I moved to Wellington when the war started."

"That's similar to me," Danielle replied. "I was born in Amsterdam but moved to London when I was two. "

"Amsterdam!" Georgina exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "I've always wanted to go there."

Mrs Cole beamed, pleased by the fact they were getting along. "How about introducing her to Tom?" she questioned.

Danielle nodded and led Georgina upstairs to Tom's room. His door swung open before she even had a chance to knock and Tom looked irritated at the interruption, as if he had been planning to leave. "What is it, Clara?" he asked testily.

"Mrs Cole wants me to introduce you to Georgina Taylor," Danielle answered, stepping aside so he could get a better view of the new girl. "She's transferring to Hogwarts this year."

"In the middle of the term?" Tom enquired. "There has certainly been no shortage of new students." His hawkish gaze turned onto Georgina and his expression turned into the familiar look of frustrated exasperation it wore every time he tried to use Legilimency on Danielle. Georgina must be highly proficient at it–though if her parents had been spies, Danielle supposed she had to be.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Taylor," Tom said at last, extending his hand. "My name is Tom Riddle, and I am a Prefect at Hogwarts. I do hope you'll enjoy your time there."

Danielle struggled not to laugh, as she always did whenever he put on his polite, innocent act. "It's a pleasure to meet you too," Georgina stated. "What Houses are both of you in?"

"We are both in Slytherin," Tom replied.

"The one with the snake?" Georgina asked. "I wasn't quite clear on the explanations Professor Dumbledore gave me..."

"He spoke to you?" Tom asked. Danielle could recognize the suspicion in his voice. "I would have thought that would be the Headmaster's job…"

"I believe Professor Dippet was busy," Georgina said quickly. "In any case, I hope I will have a good time there."

"I am sure you will," Tom replied. With a practiced smile, he headed back downstairs, Danielle wondering where he was going.

She showed Georgina into their room, where another bed had been added against the opposite wall, and the other girl began to unpack her suitcase while Danielle stared out the window. She couldn't get the image of Tom's lookalike out of her mind. And as for Tom himself, where had he been in such a rush to get to?

After a minute of internal debating, she told Georgina she would be back later and left the room, stopping at one of the doors across the hall. Billy Stubbs opened the door as soon as she knocked and Danielle instantly enveloped him into a hug.

"Clara!" he said happily, drawing back and beaming at her. "I was wondering when you would arrive."

"I just got here," Danielle told him. "Listen—how good are you at spying?"


	12. Ambiguity

"Mrs Cole," Danielle asked politely, clasping her hands behind her back and smiling up at the orphanage head, "Do you know where Tom went?"

"Outside, dearie," she replied absent-mindedly, not looking up from the stack of paperwork piled on her desk.

Danielle's smile disappeared. Well, that was it. They would never find him now. But the always-optimistic Billy patted her shoulder, saying, "We're sure to find him eventually."

She tried to search for Tom's footprints once they went outside, but the freshly fallen snow had completely covered any sort of tracks he might have made. Danielle groaned and wrapped her scarf firmly around her neck, staying close to Billy so as to conserve body heat.

"If you don't mind me asking, Clara, why exactly d'you want to spy on Riddle?" he asked as they braved their way through the grounds of the orphanage.

"He's up to something he shouldn't be," was all Danielle could think of. "I need you to act as a decoy."

Her great-uncle looked worried. "A decoy for what?"

She paused and bit her lip, looking thoughtfully at him. She hadn't figured this one out properly. There was no way Billy would be able to escape if Tom tried Legilimency on him. "I don't know," she said honestly. "Let's just try to find him first, all right?"

She had a hunch where he might have gone, and when they ventured by the Leaky Cauldron she stopped and said to Billy, "I think he's in there."

He frowned. "By that bookshop?"

"Yes," Danielle lied. She wasn't about to open up a whole other can of Flobberworms and explain to Billy why there was actually another building there that he wasn't able to see. "Can you keep a lookout?"

"Sure," the boy readily agreed, and Danielle went into the pub.

It was warm and crowded, with wizards and witches of all ages sitting at the bar and around the tables scattered around the interior. Danielle wrapped her scarf around her face so that just her eyes were showing. Tom would probably be able to recognize her, but having some sort of disguise, albeit a poor one, made her feel better all the same.

She ordered a Butterbeer and as she sat at the bar, sipping the delightfully foamy liquid, her eyes fell on a tall figure standing by the fire. Bits of snow were melting into his dark hair and his ghostly-white skin sharply contrasted his black coat. He appeared to be arguing with the man next to him.

Danielle stealthily pulled out her wand and cast a spell that would temporarily sharpen her hearing, knowing that Hogwarts wouldn't be able to find out she had used underage magic since the area she was in had such a high concentration of witches and wizards.

"I'm sorry, but you cannot use the Floo network!" the man was saying. "Grindelwald has blocked all forms of travel across Europe."

"There must be some way," Tom replied in a low, charming voice. "It is important that I get over there. Surely you understand, sir."

"I do, but you'll get yourself and everybody in this room killed!" the man said, his voice rising higher. A bit of liquid sloshed out of the cup he was holding and he impatiently grabbed another one, downing it within three seconds. Danielle guessed he and Mrs Cole would get along very well.

"Are you certain that it is an impossibility?" Tom asked. His voice turned pleading, and Danielle wondered if he was still acting.

"Yes," the man said impatiently. "Now get out of here before I hex you."

Danielle quickly ducked her head back down as he went back behind the bar, red in the face. Tom stared at the fire for another moment before turning sharply on his heel and striding out of the pub.

She massaged her temples while waiting to make sure he was completely gone. She was disappointed and, more importantly, disgusted with herself. He hadn't come back to London to be with her, as she'd been stupid enough to believe—he'd come back to see if there was some way he could get to Albania. Danielle couldn't believe she'd been naïve enough to think that he did it for her.

Feeling her heart drop, she finished her Butterbeer and left the pub as well. Billy rushed up to her as soon as she came into view. "I saw Riddle leave," he said triumphantly. "Did you talk to him?"

Danielle shook her head. "I made sure he didn't see me."

Billy paused. He knew that they didn't go to an asylum like the rest of the orphans believed, and he suspected there was something odd about them, but he had never questioned exactly what. Danielle figured he didn't really want to know.

"Are we going back already?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "I have all the information I need."

She looked closely at his face. It was plain that he wanted to stay away from the orphanage a little bit longer. "Fine," she relented. "Let's go get something to eat."

But they were only halfway to a Muggle café when a distant alarm began to wail. "An air-raid in the middle of the day?" Danielle groaned.

Billy shrugged. "It's not like the Germans are going to wait until dark." He led her down a nearby flight of stairs into an underground shelter. They wove their way through the crowd that was pouring into it as the loud drone of the airplanes became audible above them.

Danielle wrapped her coat more tightly around her shoulders, thinking of casting a warming spell but ultimately deciding it would be too risky. She hoped Tom had made it back to the orphanage in time—although she knew he would be perfectly safe. It wasn't as if he would hesitate to use magic if he was in any sort of danger.

A bomb must have landed particularly close to their shelter, because there was a deafening explosion and the very earth shook around them, sending chunks of rock falling down from the ceiling. As Danielle shook the debris out of her hair a loud shriek sounded from several rows away.

"Shush, Cecilia," a male voice soothed—a _familiar_ male voice. Danielle leaned forward and tried to catch a glimpse of the speaker. There he was again—a man who looked like the older version of Tom. Her heart stuttered.

Making a split-second decision, she muttered to Billy, "Be back in a minute," and hurried over to where the man was sitting with a pretty girl with coiffed hair and large eyes.

Tom's double looked irritably up at her, not seeming to recognize her from earlier that day. "Yes?" he asked touchily.

"Er, hello," Danielle replied, suddenly remembering she hadn't thought of anything to say. "I was just—you look very familiar."

"I'm Tom Riddle," he said haughtily, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Oh," she said. "I've heard of you…" He looked away, bored, and in a desperate attempt to get him to listen she blurted out, "I know your son!"

His head snapped around and he glared daggers at her. "Don't say that," he hissed, but Danielle wasn't scared of a Muggle.

"He told me that his mother died and you've been heartbroken ever since," she invented wildly on the spot. "I just wanted to offer my condolences."

"That _witch_ was no wife of mine," Tom Senior spat. "She hoodwinked me."

Hoodwinked? Danielle wondered if that meant she'd used a Love Potion on him, and her throat suddenly went dry. "What—what was her name?" she asked.

"Merope Gaunt," the elder Riddle said, spitting on the ground. "Dirty, disgusting family that was…"

"Wait," Danielle gaped. "Did you say _family_?"

"Yes," Tom replied suspiciously. "The old man, Marvolo, was carted off to some prison. Good riddance. His son Morfin still lives there. The wife died years ago."

Danielle's eyes widened. How could Tom still have family when Vetus Periculosus claimed every member in its victim's family? She could understand Marvolo still being alive if it was the mother who carried the gene, but how could Morfin—Tom's uncle—have survived?

"Listen here," Riddle Senior was saying. "Don't tell him you met me at all. I have no son as far as I'm concerned."

"Of course," said Danielle. She turned around and walked back to Billy, ignoring the white-hot pain that was suddenly stabbing at her forehead.

She knew Tom was a half-blood—it was common knowledge in her time that Voldemort was not of pure blood—and the fact that he had a Muggle father and witch mother, that, too, was taught, but she hadn't known that his mother, who had died in childbirth, was a direct descendent of Slytherin. She wondered how many other times Professor Binns had spoken about the Riddle family in her fourth-year History of Magic class, and regretted sleeping for the majority of them. Of course, she'd had no idea then that the information would become as valuable as it would. She guessed Tom already knew that he had a Muggle father and she wasn't sure of the investigating he'd done into his mother's family.

So how could he still have remaining family on Merope Gaunt's side? The mystery plagued Danielle even as her headache got worse and the right side of her body temporarily went numb.

She only knew one thing to do. If Tom was going to work on _his_ own, then she had every right to work on _her_ own as well.

* * *

Tom never gave any indication that he knew she had been spying on him at the Leaky Cauldron, so of course Danielle didn't bring up the matter. She wondered if he had given up on finding a way out of Britain for the time being.

Georgina, meanwhile, was another mystery. She was very outgoing and bold, speaking to the other orphans as if they were equals. Tom's animosity toward her was evident; he'd told Danielle that she was using Occlumency against him. She wasn't sure whether this was occurring because Georgina was exceptionally powerful or because Tom was getting weaker.

If Danielle hadn't known, she would have hardly guessed that it was Christmas, since the holiday was always a dismal one at the orphanage. Danielle and Tom didn't exchange any presents. She suspected that he'd gotten rid of the diary she'd given him the year before, so she didn't feel the need to buy him anything else.

No mention was made of Tom's seventeenth birthday on New Year's Eve, aside from Danielle slyly asking, "Aren't you glad you don't have to use the Undefinable Location charm anymore?" He gave her a condescending look, unimpressed.

They were sitting in the bedroom she shared with Georgina while the annual illicit party was currently raging downstairs. Georgina had gone down to investigate, so Danielle had chosen to spend the time with Tom instead. She was sprawled out unceremoniously on her bed and he was sitting beside her, studying one of his textbooks intently. It was unusual they got to be this close for such a prolonged period of time, and she reveled in the semi-normality of it.

Neither of them spoke, each finally content, until a ring sounded from downstairs as the clock chimed midnight.

"Happy 1944," Danielle told Tom and reached up to kiss him. He held her for a second longer than he usually did, but just as she deepened the kiss she was wracked by a violent wave of dizziness and her grip slackened on him.

"What happened?" he asked as she struggled to clear her head.

"Nothing…I just moved too fast," she lied. He continued to look suspicious and, pretending to shrug it off, Danielle quickly looked around for something to do. Her eyes landed on a pile of books sitting on Georgina's bedside table and she grabbed the first one she could, flipping through it without looking at the words.

"You are interested in time-travel?" Tom questioned, and Danielle's head snapped up, alarm clearly visible on her face.

" _What?"_ she stammered.

But he simply smirked in response and she glanced down at the book she had been pretending to read. _The Mechanics and Paradoxes of Time-Travel,_ the title read. Why in the name of Merlin's pants would Georgina be reading that book?

"Oh…" Danielle said, relieved. "Yes. I find the entire concept fascinating."

"Really?" Tom asked, still smirking. She glared at him and smoothed her finger out on the page she had landed on. "… _the time-traveler's curse is an ailment that has been studied for years…"_

Danielle rolled her eyes. The paradoxes that were associated with messing up the timeline were certainly curses all right—she sincerely hoped she hadn't caused any. Then again, Dumbledore didn't seem too worried whenever she brought up the subject, so she doubted she should be either.

Without warning, Georgina burst into the room and Tom immediately stood up. "Don't let me disturb you," Georgina said sarcastically.

"It's not what it looks like," Danielle began, but the other girl gave her a knowing look.

"I've known about you two since I got here," she answered. "I can tell by the way you look at him. But don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Her eyes landed on the book Danielle was holding open. "Why are you reading that?" she demanded, sounded almost panicked.

"Er, sorry," Danielle quickly apologized, handing it back to her.

The force of Georgina's answering glare startled her, and she recoiled back from the angry gaze. Why was she so upset? Danielle watched her warily, feeling a sense of despair set in as yet another question popped up. It seemed that no matter what she did, she couldn't stay content for long.


	13. The House of Gaunt

On the last day of holidays Danielle put the plan she'd been creating for the past two weeks into action. She woke up before dawn broke and forced herself out of bed, despite feeling lightheaded and sore. She managed to drag herself downstairs and steal a piece of toast from the kitchen, wrapping it in a napkin before heading outside.

Despite the early hour, there were many people about, cleaning up after the air-raid the previous night. There were dozens of newly displaced families huddled into doorways and trying to salvage what few belongings they had left. In spite of the gnawing feeling at her stomach, Danielle took pity on a little Muggle girl who was sleeping on the street next to her mother and gave her the piece of toast. The child's face lit up as she stuffed the entire portion into her mouth.

She made it to King's Cross just in time; her train had already arrived. Casting a fond glance at Platform 9 ¾ as she passed it, Danielle hurried to Platform 12, casting Tom's Undefinable Location spell followed by a Disillusionment Charm so she could slip onto it without anyone noticing.

Luckily, the train wasn't very full and so she was able to have a compartment to herself. The train soon clattered to life and it slowly chugged out of the station, Danielle watching London disappear behind her.

Lunch was served several hours later and she nearly pounced on the food, faint with hunger since she had given her piece of toast away. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she needed to tell Madam Cutteridge about her odd bouts of dizziness and weakness, promising herself she would go to the hospital wing as soon as she arrived back at Hogwarts.

The train pulled into the station of Great Hangleton mid-afternoon. Before anyone could notice her, Danielle slipped out the back window and jogged away from the platform, pretending she was waiting for another train.

* * *

It was a long, cold walk to the neighbouring village of Little Hangleton, but despite the freezing weather Danielle somehow managed to brave her way through it. After at least an hour of nothing but grey flakes swirling in front of her face, a house began to materialize in the distance and she recognized the Riddle manor at once: stately and imposing, it appeared as if the town had been built around it, not vice versa. But it wasn't the manor Danielle was interested in: she already knew about Tom's father. The Riddles were nothing more than a family of stuck-up, snobbish Muggles. No, it was the Gaunts she was interested in.

On the outskirts of the town, she found a house—well, it was more of a shack, really—nearly buried in the snow piles. After days of poring through the archives, Danielle had found the address of the Gaunt family. She was confident that Tom would never find the information on his own; he would surely never look in a Muggle library for information on his magical ancestors.

She raised her fist and sharply knocked on the door, hoping it wouldn't collapse under the pressure. Something that looked suspiciously like a dead snake was nailed to the wood, and its blank eyes stared disconcertingly into hers. Danielle shuddered and took a step backward, glancing down at the ground instead.

The door was eventually thrown open by a short, stout man with a scraggly beard who was dressed in grimy brown rags. His small, beady eyes didn't look friendly in the least, and from what little Danielle could see of the shack behind him, the state of the interior seemed to be a perfect reflection of his appearance. He took one look at her and began to shut the door in her face, but she quickly pulled out her wand and held it in front of her. "I'm a witch," she told him, and he paused but continued to glower at her with unconcealed repugnance.

"What do you want?" he hissed in a scratchy voice. "You're too young to be part of that Ministry filth."

Danielle knew it probably wouldn't be wise to mention Tom to him, so she began with, "My name is Clara Ashford. I'm doing some research on Salazar Slytherin's descendants and I found you…"

"What makes you think I'll tell _you_ anything?" Morfin asked threateningly.

"Well," Danielle replied, "For starters, I'm able to add to the records that Merope Gaunt married a Muggle and had a son with him—"

Morfin spat on the ground at the word 'Muggle'. "Fine," he grunted. "What do you want?"

"I want to know about Vetus Periculosus," Danielle said. When he simply continued to look incredulously at her, she added, "Slytherin's curse?"

Tom's uncle shrugged. "What's there to say?" he asked. "You either get it or you don't—"

Danielle's breath quickened. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, trying not to let her eagerness show. "I thought—I thought all of his descendants had it…"

"I'm his descendant and I don't have the curse, do I? My father didn't have it. The only one who did was my slut of a sister, and good riddance to that!"

"So…not everyone is doomed to live with it? There's a chance that they'll be fine?"

"I just said that, didn't I?" Morfin grunted. "Hopefully her worthless half-blood of a son got the curse too. Now get off my property before I curse you!" Before she could ask anything else, he slammed the door in her face.

But Danielle wasn't offended in the least. She turned around and began to head back to the train station, lost in thought. So the textbook had it wrong…not _every_ descendent of Slytherin had the curse…it was pure chance that determined whether or not one would be afflicted. She would have to tell that to Dumbledore.

Well, at least she knew who Tom's family was now. Seeing as how he had the curse, he was obviously descended from Merope, and there was certainly no denying that the elder Tom Riddle was his father. Danielle wondered what had drawn a poor, pure-blooded young witch like Merope to a haughty, aristocratic Muggle like Riddle.

She slept for most of the train ride back to London, and it was nearly midnight when she finally snuck back into the orphanage. She was sure no one had thought twice about her disappearance; for the past several days she had stayed at the library well into the early hours of the morning.

When Danielle crept into the room as quietly as she could, there was a rustling as Georgina turned over in bed and whispered, "Gone again, have you?"

"Yes," Danielle replied. "I was at the library as usual."

"Oh," the other girl said, but there was an undercurrent of sarcasm to her voice, as if she knew that it was a lie.

As she settled into bed, Danielle decided that Georgina Taylor was far too nosy for her own good.

* * *

She decided not to tell Tom about what she had discovered—that the curse didn't affect everyone in a family. Perhaps she would tell him someday; but not now, since she didn't want to get into the touchy subject of how exactly she had found out the information.

The ride back to Hogwarts was uneventful; Alyssa, Dylan and Alphard had, of course, spent a relaxing holiday in Spain. They were all very surprised to meet Georgina—she'd somehow decided that she had become the fifth member of their group, and proceeded to boss everyone around and dictate what they were going to do during the train ride. Again, Danielle was surprised as she listened to Georgina speak: she hadn't met a girl who was that strong-willed and assertive in a long time, except for perhaps Olive Hornby.

When they changed back into their uniforms, the first thing Danielle noticed was that hers hung loosely on her. She hadn't been eating any less than she normally did, so she couldn't think of any explanation for her dramatic weight loss. Her face looked sunken: her cheeks were hollow and her skin was almost as pale as Tom's.

"Are you all right?" Alyssa asked doubtfully, giving her a once-over. "You look like a skeleton."

"I'm fine," Danielle assured her, but it was difficult to hide her discomfort: how could she have lost so much weight in two weeks?

She could tell by the look on Tom's face that he noticed it too—when she walked into the Prefect meeting he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and she could sense that he wanted to say something. After the meeting was dismissed and the others were out of earshot he ordered, "You are going to the hospital wing as soon as we get to Hogwarts."

"I will," she said, purposely avoiding his gaze.

"You have been different since the beginning of the year," he replied matter-of-factly, waiting for an explanation. When she offered none, his eyes narrowed and Danielle was sure he was planning to use Legilimency on her.

She sighed and broke eye contact. "Stay out of my mind, Tom," she snapped, and left him.

* * *

He maintained a stony silence for the rest of the afternoon, even going so far as to pretend she didn't exist. For her part, Danielle barely noticed; she was too busy worrying about what was wrong with her. She had stupidly thought that if she ignored her illness, it would go away. Now, months after it had started, she looked and felt worse than ever.

When they got to Hogwarts, Tom went straight to the hospital wing, presumably to take another vial of his potion from Madam Cutteridge. Danielle didn't have the energy to deal with him as well as the matron, so she resolved to go after dinner and instead trudged with the rest of the students into the Great Hall.

Dippet began his customary speech with a quick greeting and then introduced Georgina, who had been Sorted into Gryffindor. The students clapped politely as she sat down at the Gryffindor table with a wave. Dylan and Alyssa clapped the loudest of all, although it wasn't for the reason most people would assume. Danielle guessed they had never been so happy to see the back of someone.

"D'you think this means we have free reign to jinx her whenever we feel like it?" Dylan asked Alphard, but he wasn't listening.

"Strange," he was saying in a low voice. "There are transfer students from each of the Houses now. Clara's in Slytherin, Erik's in Hufflepuff, Skender is in Ravenclaw, and now Georgina's in Gryffindor…"

Danielle looked sharply at him. "It has to be a coincidence."

"An odd one," he said, then seemed to snap out of his odd reverie and grinned lopsidedly at her.

"Before we begin the feast," Dippet called, "I would like to add one more thing. After much discussion, as a way to lift up your morale considering the events that are occurring outside of the castle, we will be holding a Valentine's Day dance on the evening of February the fourteenth—"

There were many groans and cheers from the males and females respectively. "…Formal wear is suggested," Dippet continued, ignoring the students' reactions, "And you may bring a date provided you conduct yourselves maturely—I'm sure you know what I mean. Now, I would ask the Prefects of each house to assist with decorations and ticket sales…"

"This is so exciting!" Alyssa said, grabbing Alphard's hand. "Hogwarts' first dance in ages!"

Danielle and Dylan shared a gloomy look. Dylan wouldn't have a date since Felicity didn't go to Hogwarts, and Danielle was certain Tom was more likely to announce he was going to teach Muggle Studies than go to the dance. "Do you want to go as friends?" she asked Dylan. "That way we won't miss out."

He nodded, a smile breaking out across his face. "Sure, Clara."

The food appeared then, and Danielle immediately dove into it, hoping that Tom would have left the hospital wing by the time the feast was over.


	14. Complications

To Danielle's enormous relief, Tom had already left the hospital wing when she walked in. She figured he was either in the library or had started Prefect duty. _Too bad I can't make it tonight,_ she thought dryly. _At least he knows I'm up here._

"Mr Riddle left about ten minutes ago, if that's what you're here for," Madam Cutteridge said when she spotted Danielle.

"Actually, I'm here for myself," Danielle replied. "I've been feeling ill for the past couple of months and I don't know why."

After giving her a quick once-over the matron made a disapproving noise. "You have lost weight," she admitted, "And you're very pale. Could it be stress?"

"Maybe," Danielle answered. "But I've been under worse stress and I haven't reacted like this. I've just been really dizzy and feeling weak. I feel like I'm going to faint at least once a day. Nobody seems to know what it is, and…it's scaring me."

Madam Cutteridge looked solemn. "I can take a blood sample and that should give us an idea," she said. Danielle nodded and rolled up the sleeve of her robes. The matron muttered a spell and she winced slightly as a small cut appeared on her arm. A bottle was Summoned over and several droplets of blood were poured into it. With another simple charm Danielle's arm was completely healed, leaving only smooth skin behind.

While she waited for the results, Danielle walked over to the window and stared out at the deserted, snowy grounds, absent-mindedly rubbing her arm. She wished Madam Cutteridge had some kind of numbing potion. She'd had enough of it—enough of trauma, enough of worry, enough of that pull, the exquisite pain that stabbed her soul whenever she looked at Tom—and right now she was thinking that numbness would be preferable to the agonizing excess of emotions that were currently swirling up in her heart.

Danielle was only half-surprised by the results of the test. Madam Cutteridge took two blood samples, just to be sure, but it came up negative both times. It detected absolutely nothing wrong with her. She should be healthy, by all accounts. The matron said that she could contact St Mungo's if she wanted to look deeper into the matter, but Danielle refused: it was obvious that the matron thought she was simply suffering from a bad case of anxiety. She knew Madam Cutteridge—and St Mungo's—wouldn't be any help.

That brought her to her last option. But Dumbledore's office door was closed, and as Danielle paused in front of it she heard a voice she instantly recognized speaking excitedly about something. _Georgina_. What was she doing with Dumbledore? Danielle felt an irrational pang of jealousy. Dumbledore's office had been _her_ safe place. He was supposed to be helping _her_ , not some other girl. What could possibly be so important that he would want to privately talk to her? He certainly hadn't gone out of his way to speak to Erik or Skender.

As she turned away from the door in anger, she came face-to-face with Erik himself, who was standing just behind her. "Hi, Clara!" he said enthusiastically. "How was your Christmas?"

"Fine, thanks," Danielle said, plastering on a false smile. "How are you doing?"

"I lost my Divination essay somewhere around here," Erik said sadly. "I must have dropped the parchment after class."

He looked so dejected that Danielle couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "Here, I'll help," she offered. "Have you tried casting a Summoning Charm?"

"It didn't work," Erik said glumly. "It's fine, Clara." He dropped to his hands and knees to search under a table, and after a moment Danielle started to help despite his protests.

They were unsuccessful, however, and after half an hour she was forced to conclude that someone must have stolen the parchment, probably so they could pass it off as their own. Danielle sighed and gave Erik a pitying look. "I'm sorry," she told him.

"No, really, don't be," Erik assured her. "I'm just so grateful you actually helped—ahhh!" He whirled around as Tom emerged from the shadows across the hall. Danielle rolled her eyes—he'd probably been watching them for the past thirty minutes.

"Good evening, Mr Dahl," Tom said quietly. "I found this on the fourth floor." He pulled out a piece of parchment from his robes and handed it to Erik. The younger boy took it, stuttering his thanks.

"Someone pushed me and I guess it fell out of my bag when I tripped," he said ashamedly. "I'll be more careful next time."

"Who pushed you?" Danielle asked.

"That transfer student from Ravenclaw. Skender," Erik replied, the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"So he knocked you over?" Danielle said, frowning. "I'll have a talk with him, then." She began to think of ways she could sneak into the Ravenclaw dormitory and hex him when he wasn't expecting it.

"Listen, Clara," Erik began, not meeting her eyes, "I've been thinking about it and…I was wondering if you wanted to, er, go to the dance with me."

Danielle winced and glanced over at Tom. As usual, his face was perfectly impassive. "I'm sorry, Erik, but I already have a date," she said gently.

"Oh," Erik looked over at Tom. "It's fine. I guess Prefects like to go with Prefects."

"Actually, I'm going with Dylan MacDougal," Danielle admitted. "I'm sorry." She didn't miss the momentary flash of annoyance in Tom's eyes.

Seeming to sense the sudden tension in the air, Erik squeaked, "That's fine. Thank you for helping anyway!" and scuttled off, leaving Danielle to deal with Tom.

"I'm sorry," she said to him. "I thought you didn't want to go to the dance…"

"And you are correct." Tom cut her off before she could mutter another feeble excuse. "However, I would appreciate if you were not so quick to jump to conclusions."

Danielle stared blankly at him, confused. Could he possibly be jealous? Before she could ask, he abruptly changed the subject. "What did Madam Cutteridge say?"

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

"But you are not fine," he replied curtly.

"I was going to go to the library and look for some healing books." But she realized as she said it that it was past ten o'clock and the library would be closed. Danielle had a feeling she wouldn't be able to get to sleep that night, so she announced, "I'll look through the books in the Prefects' common room, then."

As they walked through the silent castle, Tom easily keeping pace with her, Danielle blurted, "Do you think that maybe…maybe Skender is a spy for Grindelwald?"

Momentary surprise crossed his face before his expression smoothed out again. "It could be possible…" Tom said slowly.

"If what Myrtle was saying is true, he was searching for something near the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. If he was reporting back its location to Grindelwald, we could be in a lot of trouble," Danielle continued. "Then again, Dumbledore seemed to think he was just lost…"

"Dumbledore believes that everyone is a saint," Tom said sharply. "I would not take his word for this."

Danielle hated to admit it, but she had to agree he was probably correct. Dumbledore trusted and forgave far too easily.

"I will look into it," Tom finally said. "It should be easy enough to deduce."

They soon reached the secret entrance to the common room (ironically enough, using the same passageway he had showed her on her very first day at Hogwarts). Luckily, none of the other Prefects were around. Tom worked on a History of Magic essay while Danielle scoured the bookshelves, looking for one on mysterious illnesses. When she found one that looked promising ( _A Concise List of Magical Ailments and Remedies_ ), she pulled it off the shelf and sat down, hoping that she would find an answer in there.

At first, she and Tom were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but as time wore on the room grew steadily darker until there were shadows dancing across the floor and the flames in the fireplace were burning their last embers. Danielle felt a sudden chill, and she moved closer to Tom.

"You are freezing, Clara," he admonished her as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm c—cold," she mumbled, feeling a violent shiver rack through her body.

Tom gave her an incredulous look, but at least he didn't push her away. Seeing that the book was no help (how was it possible to list every single magic-related disease in one volume?), Danielle lobbed it across the room. It hit one of the shelves and landed on the floor with a loud smack, causing ten more books to fall in a pile on top of it.

Danielle felt Tom's exasperated sigh against her head, and grinned in spite of herself. They sat in silence for another moment before she abruptly asked, "Are you jealous?"

"Of what?"

"That Dylan and I are going to the dance together."

Tom's mouth twisted upward in a smirk. "What do I have to possibly be… _jealous_ about?" he asked.

Danielle's brow furrowed in bewilderment. Did he mean that as an insult? She opened her mouth to ask him but dissolved in a fit of coughing instead. When the convulsions subsided and her head stopped spinning she said hoarsely, "I think I'm turning into you. Is the curse contagious?"

Tom didn't reply—he just stared at the opposite wall with a blank expression. Danielle closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she had a feeling it wouldn't come so easily for her tonight.

* * *

Georgina was just leaving Dumbledore's office when she nearly ran into Tom Riddle walking past her. He gave her a curt nod. "Miss Taylor," he greeted politely.

"Mr Riddle," she mocked, jogging up beside him. "What are you doing skulking around this late at night?"

"With all due respect, Miss Taylor, I believe I should be asking _you_ that question," he said, giving her the penetrating stare that made her wonder how Clara could keep eye contact with him for more than three seconds.

"I was just speaking to Professor Dumbledore," she said. "Therefore, I have a justifiable reason for being out of my dormitory at this hour." Riddle smiled blandly at her, but she could tell she was the last thing his mind was on. "Listen," Georgina began, "I think I'm lost. I—I can't remember where Gryffindor Tower is."

He stopped at the entrance to the hospital wing. "Well, Miss Taylor, I would be more than happy to show you the way if you would wait here for a minute," Tom said. Georgina nodded as he disappeared into the room, only to come back out moments later with a familiar potion.

"Getting a Strengthening Solution for Clara?" she asked.

Tom narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Oh, come on," Georgina said lightly. "Anyone can tell that she's ill."

He didn't answer, merely slipping the bottle into his robes. "So," Georgina continued, "you know that she's going to the Valentine's Day dance with Dylan MacDougal, right?"

He nodded tersely. "Since she's unavailable, would you go with me instead?"

Tom's eyes widened a fraction. "With _you_?" he repeated.

"Yes," Georgina answered. "Neither of us have a date, and the teachers would be delighted if a Gryffindor and a Slytherin went together. Come on, Riddle. If you want to keep an eye on Clara, it would give you the perfect excuse."

Tom considered her coldly, the intensity of his gaze almost making her wish she hadn't asked. After a long silence, he said, "Fine."

Georgina smirked triumphantly.


	15. Collapse

The Strengthening Solutions helped, but only a bit. Danielle felt better at first, but as time wore on the effects of the potions began to lessen until it was as if she wasn't taking them at all. Hope was a stubborn thing, she decided. Every time she thought it had been extinguished completely, it just kept popping back up again. She wished she could say the same thing about happiness.

The weeks passed by excruciatingly slowly, with almost nothing to relive the monotony. Danielle began to miss classes because she wasn't feeling well, and spent most of the day lying in bed with the covers pulled up over her head. Dumbledore was gone from the castle for extended periods of time, most likely searching for ways to stop Grindelwald, and with him absent Danielle had no one to turn to. Tom, of course, questioned her about what was wrong, but even he had to admit that she honestly had no idea. The only thing that took her mind off her problems were the Apparition lessons that were held weekly in the Great Hall, but it soon became clear that she could barely cast a spell, let alone Apparate. As the Valentine's dance grew closer she began to wonder if she would even be able to make it to that.

On the morning of the dance, Danielle woke up feeling like she had just been hit multiple times by the Killing Curse, and then revived by someone repeatedly slamming into her chest to make her heart start beating again. She rolled right out of bed and hit the floor with a loud thump, trying to ignore Olive's loud and jeering laughter.

"Clara, are you okay?" Alyssa asked worriedly from above her. Danielle tried to nod, but her muscles weren't obeying her brain's commands. Alyssa eventually had to pull her to her feet, and Danielle gripped the bedpost in order to stay upright.

"Merlin, you need the hospital wing," Alyssa breathed, looking wide-eyed.

"No," Danielle croaked. "I'm fine." But she knew her lies were transparent—it took her fifteen minutes to get dressed and make her way down to the Great Hall, where the sky on the enchanted ceiling had turned pink for the occasion and banners a horrifying shade of magenta were draped over the tables and windows. Danielle vaguely noticed there weren't many males in the room; they had most likely turned and walked out when they saw the decorations, Dylan and Alphard included.

"Are you going to class today or helping with the dance?" Alyssa asked when she sat down. "Clara? …Clara?"

Danielle was staring down at her plate, breathing shallowly. Her entire body tensed and she felt a wave of light-headedness hit her. "What?" she slurred, staring blankly at Alyssa. The edges of her vision blurred and turned hazy.

Alyssa quickly stood up, seemingly calling for help, but before the sound reached Danielle's ears she blacked out entirely.

* * *

She awoke in the hospital wing with Madam Cutteridge bent over her. "I'm getting someone from St Mungo's," the matron said when Danielle's eyes fluttered open. "They should be here any moment."

Feeling like her mouth was full of cotton balls, Danielle struggled to sit up, but the nurse pushed her back down. "What time is it?" she croaked.

"Eight PM. You've been unconscious for twelve hours," Madam Cutteridge answered. "I couldn't get you to wake up until now."

"I have to go to the dance," Danielle tried to say. "It's impor—"

"You're not going anywhere," the matron snapped. "Not until you're looked at by a professional Healer."

"Where's Dumbledore?"

"He's not at Hogwarts right now," Madam Cutteridge said, frowning. "Why do you want to see him?"

"No reason," Danielle sighed, defeated. "Was anyone looking for me?" She would have to apologize profusely to Dylan.

"The MacDougal twins, Mr Black and Mr Riddle were all asking about you." the matron replied curtly as she turned away.

So Tom had tried to visit. Danielle rubbed her eyes, sending little spurts of light shooting past her closed lids. Blinking confusedly, she struggled to regain focus. "When is the Healer coming?" she asked.

"Any minute now." Madam Cutteridge retreated back into her office, and Danielle seized her chance. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, picking herself up off the floor when she stumbled and fell, barely managing to stagger out of the hospital wing. She knew that she desperately needed to see a Healer and that things were much more serious than she had first thought, but she didn't know how long she would be in St Mungo's… or even how much longer she would be _alive_ , if she wanted to go down that route.

She made slow progress, however, and while she was leaning against the wall trying to catch her breath she spotted Skender walking down the corridor. "Clara?" he asked, squinting at her. "Why aren't you at the dance?"

"Skender," she mumbled as he shifted in an out of focus, "I need to ask you something. Have you ever heard of…Ravenclaw's diadem?"

She knew she was grasping at straws, but he was the only person in sight and might be her only chance. "Yes, I have," he said after a period of reluctance. "The legend says that it's in Albania…"

"Do you know… _where_ …in Albania?" she pressed.

"I do not. I'm sorry," he replied. When Danielle's face fell, he added, "But…wouldn't it be logical to assume that Grindelwald has stolen it?"

Her eyebrows shot up. She had never thought of that possibility before, and she didn't think Tom had either. "That's…that's excellent," she answered, stunned. Now all she needed was Dumbledore—he would know where Grindelwald was.

"If you…" she whispered hoarsely, "If you see Professor Dumbledore…tell him…tell him I want to talk to him."

Skender nodded and disappeared through one of the doors at the end of the hallway. Danielle continued downstairs, wondering how she could be so thick. Of _course_ Grindelwald would want the diadem. It was a symbolic way of asserting his power over the country.

The steady, throbbing beat of music became increasingly louder as Danielle climbed down each flight of stairs, clutching her side and gasping loudly. She knew, whatever was happening to her, that she didn't have much time left. She was struggling to stay conscious.

The Great Hall was lavishly decorated, with brightly coloured streamers hanging from the ceiling and adorning the walls. The tables had disappeared and the Hall had been transformed into an enormous dance floor. Sparkles and glitter covered the ground and snowflakes were swirling in the air, occasionally arranging themselves into different shapes. Whoever had designed the layout must have been exceptionally skilled at Transfiguration and interior decorating. Danielle barely paid attention to lavish decorations. She slipped into the room and crept through the sea of dancing couples, searching for Tom.

Someone tapped on her shoulder, and she turned around to see Dylan smartly dressed in a pair of black dress robes. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. "I thought you were sick!"

"I am," she whispered. Dylan grabbed her waist and they began to spin around the ballroom, Danielle catching a glimpse of Alphard and Alyssa as they waltzed past them. "I need to find Tom…where is he?"

"I dunno," Dylan said, peering into her eyes. "Clara, you _really_ don't look well. What did Madam Cutteridge say?"

"She called a Healer to take a look at me, but I snuck out," Danielle explained. She was beginning to worry that Tom would be impossible to find—everyone was beginning to merge together into an indistinguishable sea of bodies.

Dylan smirked. "You _do_ look rather strange dressed in your normal robes."

Danielle didn't even have the energy to mutter an insult. Her eyes finally focused on a couple directly behind them: Tom and Georgina. Tom was dressed in a pair of dark green dress robes and Georgina was in a stunning, floor-length scarlet dress. Her auburn hair had been pulled up into an elaborate bun, leaving several strands to fall onto her bare shoulders. They really did look like opposites, Danielle mused. Slytherin and Gryffindor, united at last…

She suddenly lost her balance and nearly fell down, Dylan forced to catch her as her legs buckled.

* * *

"I must say, you're a hard man to find, Mr Riddle," Georgina said in a low voice as they circled around the dance floor. Tom was, as she'd expected, an excellent dancer. He guided her so expertly that it felt like she was barely moving.

"Thank you, Miss Taylor," he replied. His hands were loosely placed on her waist and she kept a tight grip on his shoulders, yet there was a considerable amount of space between them.

"I see Mr MacDougal is alone," Georgina continued. "I thought he was going with Clara."

"She is ill," Tom said unemotionally. "Now, Miss Taylor, how long do you—"

"Ill again?" Georgina interrupted him. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet…"

"Figured out _what_ yet?" Tom asked, his tone darkening infinitesimally.

"Oh, come on." She rolled her eyes and abruptly closed the space between them, putting her lips close to the hollow of his ear so she could whisper, "Haven't you ever wondered why you have a difficult time using Legilimency on Clara and I? It's not because either of us are particularly good at it."

He pulled back and surveyed her suspiciously. "Miss Taylor—"

"Or wondered why Clara never speaks about her parents?" Georgina asked. "Tell me, _Tom_ , you wonder about it, don't you? But you can't figure out the truth because you can't see into her mind. And we all know that you're exceptionally good at it, right? Doesn't it… _frustrate_ you?"

He continued to stare indifferently at her, but she knew there was something brewing just beneath the surface. "Where are you getting this information from?" he asked, and there was a momentary flash of red in his eyes.

Georgina knew it was time to make her exit, so after they had circled once more around the room she grinned mischievously. "I believe Clara is right behind you," she purred. "Remember what I told you, Mr Riddle." Then she spun herself right out of his grip, disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

Danielle could barely speak as she felt Dylan move away from her and after a heartstopping second where there was nothing but empty air to support her, she felt her arms draped around another person's shoulders. "Tom," she whispered, leaning heavily on him. She couldn't hold her own weight anymore; she was letting him carry her.

"How did you leave the hospital wing?" he asked accusingly.

She ignored the question. " _He_ has the…the diadem," Danielle whispered. "G—Grindelwald. Skender told me."

"Clara!" Tom murmured. "Look at me! This is not a game—"

But Danielle soon lost all knowledge of what Tom was saying to her as the floor suddenly moved under her and she went entirely limp. The stream of chatter around her ceased as her legs gave way and she fell to the floor, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Everything was suddenly swallowed up into a bottomless black pit and just like that—

.

.

.

she

.

.

.

was

.

.

.

_gone._


	16. Losing Stability

Alyssa was dancing with Alphard, utterly blissful, when she heard him suck in a sharp breath and loosen his grip on her. Annoyed, she half-opened her eyes and prodded him in the shoulder. "The song's not over yet!" she hissed.

But all around them, other students were stopping as well. Alphard paid no heed to her protests; he roughly pulled her through the crowd until they got to a gap large enough for Alyssa to see through: Clara was lying motionless on the floor—she wasn't wearing an extravagant dress like the rest of the girls, but was dressed in her regular school robes. Tom was bent over her, muttering spells under his breath, but she still wasn't moving. For one wild moment, Alyssa thought he had cursed her.

"What happened?" she cried, letting go of Alphard's hand and dropping to the ground beside her friend. Tom didn't even look up at her. Clara's skin was unnaturally pale, her face perfectly blank. Alyssa grabbed her limp hand and felt for a pulse. When she found none, she turned frantically back to Alphard, certain her best friend was dead. But just then she sensed it: a slow, unnatural beat that only pulsated every few seconds.

Tom was trying to revive her—Alyssa could feel the power of his magic crackling in the air, though perhaps weaker than it once had been—but Clara didn't stir. It was as if she was dead—she wasn't even breathing. There was no rise or fall to her chest; no breath escaping her mouth. The only thing that signaled she was still alive was her heartbeat, but it was pulsing far too slowly for her to merely be unconscious.

The other students gathered around them, whispering excitedly. The crowd parted when Dippet came through, followed by Madam Cutteridge and a woman Alyssa didn't recognize but was dressed in a line green Healer's uniform—someone must have called St Mungo's. The Healer conjured a stretcher and levitated Clara onto it while Dippet said something to Tom. Without answering the Headmaster, Tom abruptly stood up and left the Great Hall, causing many curious students to stare after him. Alyssa wondered where Georgina had gone.

She stood up and turned back to Alphard and Dylan, who both looked stricken. "Is she dead?" Dylan asked.

"I have no idea," Alyssa replied.

* * *

Georgina sprinted through the castle, taking the stairs two at a time. Her hair was falling out of its bun and she had to hold her dress up with one hand to prevent herself tripping over its train. Her face was tinged as red as her hair by the time she finally got to Dumbledore's office. "Professor?" she asked, anxiously knocking on the door. But there was no answer from within, and with the true rashness of a Gryffindor she pushed it open (unsurprisingly, he had left it unlocked), peering into the empty room. Of course, he wasn't there on the evening she so desperately needed him. He could be on a different continent for all she knew.

"Miss Taylor," a deep voice said from behind her. Georgina whirled around to see Professor Holstone walking down the hall toward her.

"Evening, Professor," she responded in a low voice, surreptitiously closing the office door behind her. The movement didn't escape the notice of Holstone, who looked at her suspiciously.

"What exactly, may I ask, were you doing in Albus Dumbledore's office?"

"I was looking for him," she said truthfully. "Do you know where he is?"

Holstone coldly surveyed her. "I do not," he answered. "However, I do know where _you_ will be if you continue to snoop around teachers' offices."

Georgina glared up at him, indignant. "I wasn't snoop—" she began, but he held up a hand.

"Why else would you be in there?" he asked. "Ten points from Gryffindor." She opened her mouth to protest, but he said, "Another word and it will be ten more. Now get out of my sight."

A nearby window shattered as Georgina stomped past him, unsuccessfully trying to conceal her anger. Hatred boiled in her stomach as she walked away from Holstone, frustratingly useless.

* * *

Skender paced the shadowy corridors on the seventh floor, searching for a hidden door. He was determined to find out all the castle's secrets, and rumour had it there was a room that was charmed to give the occupant whatever they needed on this floor. Since the rest of the students were at the dance, it was a perfect time for him to investigate without arousing suspicion.

He closed his eyes and muttered " _Revelio_!", but nothing happened. Skender sighed and took a step back from the wall, stroking his chin. He had to give the founders credit: when they didn't want something to be found, it wouldn't be.

"Looking for something?"

Skender glanced over his shoulder and saw Tom Riddle walking toward him with a careful, practiced step. He watched the younger boy warily, wondering why he wasn't at the dance. The light from the torches overhead suddenly cast his face into sharp relief, and Skender instinctively recoiled: Riddle's irises were bright red. It was a startling juxtaposition: the color was jarring against his otherwise handsome face.

He started to reach for his wand, but Riddle Disarmed him without so much as lifting a hand. For a moment, the two boys stared at each other. "Where is the diadem?" Riddle asked.

Skender frowned. "I…I do not know," he said. "It's just a myth—"

"No," Riddle breathed, and all of a sudden his face twisted, looking inhuman in the half-light. "You are lying. You know where it is."

"I do not—" Skender began, but there was a sudden flash of red light and he was knocked off his feet. He lay on the ground, unable to move, as Riddle stood over him and kicked his body over.

"I have no tolerance for liars," he said coldly. "If you tell me the truth, I might be merciful."

"I honestly do not know!" Skender panted, and his exclamation turned into a scream as Riddle hissed, " _Crucio_!" and he burst into unbearable agony.

Skender twisted on the ground, howling in pain, while Riddle continued to torture him, every so often lifting the curse just enough to demand "Where is the diadem?" When Skender still moaned that he didn't know, the curse would be administered again.

His yells were echoing off the walls and reverberating around the hallway. Riddle's lips twisted into a smirk and his eyes burned an even brighter crimson with every scream the other boy uttered.

" _Stop_."

The voice was soft, yet utterly commanding. As if the words were a catalyst, the curse lifted and Skender let out an involuntary gasp, the memory of the pain still fresh. Dumbledore was walking toward them, a severe expression on his usually kind face. Riddle was suddenly paralyzed, unable to even move an inch.

Skender struggled to his feet, looking ill. Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder. "Can you walk, Mr Bardhi?"

The boy nodded, throwing Riddle a disgusted look. "Do you need the hospital wing?" Dumbledore continued.

"No," Skender said, although it was obvious he was shaken. "Just keep _him_ away from me." He turned around and was gone with a swish of his dark cloak.

"Well, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, "If he decides to tell everyone what just occurred, I'm afraid there's not much I can do."

Riddle didn't respond—he merely glared at Dumbledore with an expression of hatred so fierce that it would have sent the Minister of Magic himself running for cover. But Dumbledore didn't seem fazed. "I believe we should continue this conversation in my office," he said lightly.

He grabbed Riddle by the arm and pulled him down the hallway to his office, supporting the boy so he wouldn't fall over in his paralyzed state. When they reached the office, Dumbledore shut the door tightly and pushed Riddle into the chair in front of his desk, conjuring a potion out of thin air. He poured its contents down Riddle's throat, waiting until his irises had turned back to their normal blue before lifting the Body-Bind curse.

Dumbledore watched patiently until Tom had regained control of himself. "I don't expect you need me to tell you what happened just now," he said.

"No, sir," Tom said, refusing to look up at Dumbledore.

"Mr Riddle, I hope you know that I cannot stand back and allow you to harm the other students like this," the Transfiguration professor said. "I was, perhaps, foolish to think that you would be harmless as long as you took the potion."

"Are you going to expel me?" he asked listlessly, still not looking up.

There was a silence before Dumbledore answered. "What do you think I should do, Tom? You and I both know this cannot continue."

"I guess not, sir," he muttered.

"Could this have something to do with Miss Ashford?" he asked, more gently.

Tom's jaw clenched, but he immediately replied, "No."

"Mr Riddle, I must ask that you look at me when I am speaking to you," Dumbledore said firmly. It was a command, and Tom finally lifted his head, his face rearranging itself into a blank expression. "Now, I cannot claim to know the specifics of yours and Miss Ashford's relationship, but I can tell you that Ravenclaw's diadem will not heal her ailment at the moment."

Riddle's careful control vanished for a moment as surprise flashed across his face. "Yes, I know about that," Dumbledore continued, half-smiling. "Now, are you sure you are in full control of yourself and you will not lose your temper again?"

"Yes, sir," Riddle said, looking uncomfortable.

Dumbledore surveyed him closely over his half-moon glasses before continuing. "Then I will consider this conversation over. However," he cautioned as Tom rose, "If anything of this sort happens again, be assured that the Headmaster will be told about it."

He nodded and turned to leave. As he opened the door Dumbledore added, "I believe Miss Ashford's room number is two hundred twenty-seven."

Tom didn't respond, but Dumbledore knew he had heard. When the boy was gone, he sat back in his chair and stared out the window, suddenly looking as weary and ancient as the old man he would eventually become.


	17. The Unbreakable Vow

It was very rare that a Hogwarts pupil had to be treated at St Mungo's, so naturally the hospital was abuzz with excitement when word broke out that a student had been brought there. She was taken to the second floor (Magical Bugs and Diseases) and rumour had it that half the Healers on the staff had been called in to help revive her.

In fact, just after she had arrived, Clara Ashford's heart stopped beating altogether, but it had quickly been restarted with the aid of a spell. Countless Healers gathered at her bed, frantically trying to figure out what was wrong with her.

She wasn't Petrified, but it would have been easy to assume she was—she was in a coma-like state and no amount of potions or spells could get her to wake up. Her heartbeat was slow and unwilling, kept beating only by artificial means. In fact, it _was_ as if she was dead. The Muggles would have declared her to be in a "vegetative state", remarked one Muggle-born Healer, earning puzzled stares from the others. They had never seen anything like her before.

Even with constant care around the clock, nothing they did would help. Their exasperation grew as Clara lay pale as death on the bed. She wasn't even breathing.

Since Healers from around the world were unable to travel to Britain due to the war, secret correspondences were carried out from St Mungo's to every wizarding hospital on the planet, but everyone else was just as clueless as they were. There were no recorded cases, much less remedies, to what Clara had.

The days slowly ticked by, with no change in her condition. She did, however, have visitors that weekend: Alyssa, Dylan and Alphard came first, bringing a bouquet of flowers and chocolate from the gift shop. Dumbledore showed up in the afternoon, but surprisingly he didn't look solemn. He wore a cheerful expression and even spoke to Clara as if she could understand every word he was saying, much to the Healers' amazement. Dippet himself also visited, even if he only stayed several minutes. He gave her a get-well card signed by all the teachers.

Late that night, long after visiting hours had ended, the fireplace in her room flared a bright green and a tall figure stepped out. Tom Riddle stood at the foot of her bed for a long while, staring impassively down at her. A sneer crossed his face when his eyes landed on the chocolates; what use were they when she was unconscious? He gazed at Clara with such an intensity that someone observing the situation would have been sure that she could be roused with the force of his gaze.

Tom reached out his hand and gently brushed hers with his fingertips. Her hand was limp and her skin was an unnatural grey sheen. Her heartbeat was erratic and sluggish as it reluctantly continued to thud under the power of the Healers' spells. It was the only thing keeping her alive…a tiny thread tenuously striving to keep her existing. But perhaps her physical body was the only thing that was still alive. Perhaps her soul had disappeared as unquestionably as if she had received the Dementor's Kiss.

Tom continued to regard her for a long moment with an unreadable expression before turning around and vanishing in the fire the way he had appeared.

* * *

The days slowly turned into weeks and the weeks stretched out into months. The snow began to melt and stubborn blades of grass began to poke up from beneath the slush. Although Clara had been the talk of the school for a long time, more gossip had inevitably replaced it and the students gradually forgot about her. Very soon, the fact that a Slytherin Prefect was in St Mungo's for an indefinite period of time had been abandoned by the general population...except for six people.

Alyssa, Dylan and Alphard Floo'd to St Mungo's every Saturday with Dippet's permission. Dumbledore would also make sporadic visits, as did Georgina, surprisingly. Unbeknownst to everyone, Tom Riddle visited Clara once a week in the dead of night. He would do the same thing every time: stand in front of her bed and silently observe her, sometimes brushing his fingers against her face or hand, before leaving again.

Olive temporarily replaced Clara as a Prefect, and after her messy breakup with Abraxas she turned to the task of seducing Tom again, which didn't work any better than it had the first time. He smoothly rebuffed her advances and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get any emotion out of him.

Meanwhile, Clara continued to stay in a coma-like state, with even the most powerful Healers in Britain unable to help her or even diagnose her condition.

One day in early May, Georgina was at the hospital visiting Clara when a Healer bustled into the room and said gently, "I'm afraid you'll have to say your goodbyes for the final time today, dear."

"What?" Georgina asked, alarmed. "Why?"

"She's been like this for nearly three months," the Healer replied. "There's nothing we can do. She can't stay here forever. We're lifting the enchantment keeping her alive later today."

"No—you can't!" Georgina cried loudly, but the Healer didn't listen.

"The board voted today, and it was unanimous," she explained. "It's only ethical. Even if we _did_ manage to revive her, there's no guarantee that she would be the same—"

But she couldn't finish her sentence, because Georgina had raced to the fire and immediately Floo'd back to Hogwarts.

Without even bothering to brush off the dirt that had accumulated after spinning through hundreds of fireplaces, she reappeared in the Gryffindor common room, ignoring the strange looks thrown at her by the other students, and sprinted as fast as she could out of the room and down the Grand Staircase with a wild look in her eyes.

But she was halted when she got to the third floor by none other than Tom and Olive, who were doing their Prefect duties. Georgina gulped and averted her eyes from Olive's haughty glare. "Excuse me," she muttered, but Tom stood firmly in her way.

"Where are you going in such a hurry, if I may ask, Miss Taylor?" he said dangerously.

Georgina had a sudden, brilliant idea. "They're going to let Clara die," she blurted out. "I have to tell someone." Taking advantage of the fact that Tom had momentarily frozen, she darted around him and continued down the hallway. He wouldn't be able to follow her, because he couldn't risk Olive knowing that he cared more for Clara than he let on, but on the other hand, if he _did_ care about her, he would be worried. Georgina burst into Dumbledore's office without knocking, and he looked up sharply. Before he could even utter out a "Miss Taylor," she gasped, "Clara. St. Mungo's. Going to let her die—"

Worry flickered in the Transfiguration professor's eyes and he stood up. "Well," he replied, "I believe there's only one thing to do now."

* * *

Healer Wainscott was still standing over Clara's bed when the fire suddenly flared up and Georgina tumbled into the room, followed closely by Dumbledore. "You can't do this!" she cried.

"Albus Dumbledore?" Wainscott asked, shock registering on her face. "What in the name of Merlin is going on?"

"Miss Taylor is quite right," Dumbledore said gravely. "Hope is not lost for Miss Ashford yet. There is one way that she can be helped."

"Professor, I respect your opinion, but nobody in the world that we've contacted—and you can be assured that we have contacted many Healers—has any idea what is wrong with her. Nobody that exists can help her."

"You are correct," Dumbledore said, inclining his head slightly. "Nobody that exists _now_ can help her."

Wainscott stared at him suspiciously. "Would you care to explain what you mean?" she asked, but just then the fire turned green for the third time in the space of two minutes and Tom Riddle stepped out.

Georgina groaned. "Keep your nose out of this," she warned, but he merely blinked innocently at her.

"Out of what?" he asked. "You seemed very worried ten minutes ago. I felt that I should see what was wrong."

"No, you weren't," she snapped. "You were worried about Clara, Riddle. Admit it."

He merely raised an elegant eyebrow in response. Georgina made a sound equivalent to that of an enraged centaur and clenched her teeth. How did Clara deal with him? She was sure she would go insane if she had to spend longer than an hour in a room with him.

"Mr Riddle," Dumbledore said lightly, "It is admirable that you wished to see what was happening, but I must ask you to leave the room for a moment."

"Sir?" Tom asked, his eyes widening slightly, as if surprised. "Are you sure there is nothing I can assist you with?"

Dumbledore's lips twitched. "I am sure of that," he said. The blank mask clamped over Tom's face again more quickly than usual, and he left the room without another word. Georgina was sure that Dumbledore was nonverbally casting spells that prevented Tom from eavesdropping, as he was no doubt intending to do.

Healer Wainscott had crossed her arms and was now looking rather annoyed. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the barely-audible thud of Clara's weak heart. Finally, Dumbledore said, "In order for you to help, you must be willing to make the Unbreakable Vow."

Wainscott looked shaken. "Professor…"

"I realize it may seem a tad over-the-top," Dumbledore acknowledged, "But I assure you that you will understand once everything is explained. If you do not wish to participate, then I will simply ask another Healer who would be willing to help us."

Wainscott was obviously torn between curiosity and duty, but in the end curiosity won out. She licked her lips nervously and nodded. "I agree," she finally said.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore smiled. He turned to Georgina. "Would you care to be our Bonder?"

Georgina nodded. Dumbledore reached out his right hand and grasped Wainscott's. Georgina pulled out her wand and placed the tip on their hands.

"Elspeth Wainscott," Dumbledore began, "Do you swear to never speak out loud the matter of what I am about to reveal to you, not even under torture or death?"

Shakily, Wainscott nodded, and a tongue of flame shot out of Georgina's wand and wound itself around their intertwined hands.

"Do you swear to never indicate that you know anything about the matter or imply that you had anything to do in Clara Ashford's healing?"

Wainscott nodded again, and another tongue of fire shot out of the wand and interlinked with the first.

"Do you swear to only use the knowledge to cure her, and her only?"

For the third time, Wainscott nodded, and the tip of Georgina's wand lit up. Dumbledore's and Wainscott's hands were enclosed for a second in a blinding, brilliant light before it vanished.

Dumbledore withdrew his hand and smiled pleasantly, bouncing on the tips of his toes. "Would you like to begin, Miss Taylor?" he asked.

She nodded and pocketed her wand. "The reason that nobody knows about her sickness," she began, looking Wainscott in the eye, "Is that nobody has discovered it yet."

The Healer looked bewildered and Georgina added, "It's called the Time-Traveler's curse."

"How do you know that?" Wainscott demanded.

Georgina paused and looked over at Dumbledore, who smiled encouragingly. She took a deep breath and spoke. "I know it because…because I'm a time-traveler."


	18. Awakening

When Dumbledore let Tom in ten minutes later, Wainscott was looking as if she had just been hit in the face by a Bludger. She regarded Georgina with wide eyes, looking at her with both fear and awe. Tom's own eyes narrowed as his gaze suspiciously swept the scene. Something was going on: any fool would realize that. But _what_? His blood boiled in frustration, but he kept a neutral expression on his face.

"What is going on?" he asked, keeping his tone as polite as possible.

"It appears there is a cure for Miss Ashford," Dumbledore said lightly. "I have been brewing it for the past five months."

Tom glared at the Transfiguration professor, feeling a cold hatred. "Have you?" he asked. Of course, Dumbledore knew Tom despised him, but he had to keep the pretense up. His magic was slowly slipping away and that frustrated him beyond belief—and he was finding it harder to control his emotions, but that had occurred as soon as that damned Clara had shown up—and he was determined not to show any sign of weakness.

Wainscott, sensing the tension, muttered a vague excuse about needing to check on her other patients and slipped out of the room. Tom watched her leave and turned his sharp gaze back to Dumbledore. "You made the Unbreakable Vow?" he asked quietly.

Unfazed, the professor nodded. "I warn you not to use Legilimency on others, Tom," he said. "Not only is it invasive, if word gets out that you are an expert, you might be faced with severe consequences."

"Of course, sir," he quickly relented. "I was just curious as to what could be so mysterious about Miss Ashford's condition that you would make the Unbreakable Vow before telling a Healer about it."

"If I told you, Tom, I would have to make the Vow with _you_ ," Dumbledore replied, smiling faintly.

Before Tom could retort, Georgina interrupted, "Could we give the potion to Clara, now, please?"

"Certainly," Dumbledore said. "If you would just give me a few minutes, I will go fetch the potion from the castle." Putting his hat back on, he disappeared into the fireplace.

Tom and Georgina were left glaring at each other over Clara's bed. "If you have been preparing a potion for the past five months, why did you not tell Miss Ashford about it?" Tom asked.

"I didn't know if it would work or not," Georgina said. "We didn't want to get her hopes up."

"But, presumably, it worked?"

She nodded. "I hope so."

Simultaneously, they both turned to look at the prone figure in the bed. "You're in love with her," Georgina said matter-of-factly.

Tom looked up at her, his expression neutral. "Again, Miss Taylor, that is none of your business."

Georgina rolled her eyes. "Fine. Just tell me this: You care about her, don't you?" He reluctantly nodded, and she continued, "Then I promise she will tell you everything once she gets better."

Tom continued to look distrustfully at her until Dumbledore reappeared in the room carrying a steaming vial of purple liquid. Georgina called Wainscott back in, and the Healer stood supervising at the door while Dumbledore went over to Clara. Georgina knelt at the bedside, and even Tom moved a few steps closer.

"Are you ready?" Dumbledore asked. Georgina nodded and crossed her fingers (Tom inwardly scoffing at such a Muggle gesture) and the professor poured the contents of the bottle down Clara's throat.

When there was no immediate reaction, Georgina let out a cry of despair. "It's not working," she moaned. "I've killed her—"

"Wait a moment, Miss Taylor," Dumbledore told her. "It will take her a couple of days to fully recover."

The four of them waited with bated breath, and after a stretch of silence Wainscott said, "Listen!"

Her heartbeat had sped up slightly to an interval of only a few seconds. It was hardly discernible, but it was the biggest change that had occurred since Clara had been brought to St Mungo's.

Hope was now rampant on Georgina's face. "Do you think she'll be fine?"

Dumbledore nodded, and there was unmistakeable relief on his face as well. "Yes, Miss Taylor. I think she will be just fine."

* * *

As time went on, Clara's heart gradually began to quicken until it was nearly beating at a normal speed. Colour slowly began to come back to her face and Wainscott felt it safe to lift the enchantment. When it became clear that she was surviving without any outside interference, there was a noticeable sigh of relief. Wainscott and Dumbledore eventually left, with Georgina close behind. Finally, only Tom was left. When he was sure that he was alone, he went over to the potion Dumbledore had brewed and shook out a drop into his hand, determined to find out what it was.

He had no sooner cast a Revealing Spell when there was a slight movement on the bed. Turning his head, he saw that Clara's hand had moved a millimeter from where it was resting at her side. Tom turned his focus back to her, watching her suspiciously for any sign of movement.

Her cheeks were a healthy red again and he could see her steady heartbeat throbbing at her neck. It had only been half a day since she'd been given the potion.

There was another movement of her head, and as Tom bent over her, her chest rose in her first breath in three months.

With a shudder and a loud gasp, she came back to life.

* * *

Danielle's next conscious thought was that of Tom staring down at her. She felt sluggish and slow, but her heart pounded erratically at the sight of him. Maybe she was still at the dance and had only blacked out for a second? But no—the ceiling above them was certainly _not_ the Great Hall.

She was lying in a bed in a small, cramped room with a window covered in heavy brown drapes and a stone fireplace in the corner. Danielle opened her mouth to speak and her voice came out croaky and almost unintelligible. "Am I in St Mungo's?" she slurred, wincing as the words scraped painfully against her throat on their way out.

"Yes," Tom replied smoothly. She studied his eyes; his long eyelashes cast odd shadows against his pale cheekbones. She felt comforted, as if she hadn't seen him for a very long time.

"Is there still time to go back to the dance?" she asked. "I'm awake now…"

He smirked, his teeth briefly flashing white. "I am afraid the dance ended quite a while ago."

"How long?" she asked, fearing the worst. It was probably the next morning—oh _no_ —she had to think up some excuse—

"Nearly three months ago," Tom answered. Danielle stared up at him, uncomprehending. "It is May the seventh."

"That's impossible," she croaked.

"Considering you have been in a coma for the past twelve weeks and nothing could wake you up except for the miraculous potion Dumbledore conjured at the last moment and which Miss Taylor seems to have a hand in, I would not classify it as 'impossible'," he said, a hint of sarcasm colouring his otherwise neutral tone.

"But then…all the classes I've missed," Danielle whispered. "My birthday…blimey, I'm seventeen now…" Her fingers curled and she started to sit up, but Tom grabbed her wrists and pinned them down on the bed.

"You are too weak," he told her. "Do not overexert yourself."

She managed a scowl. "Since when have you cared about my—"

But before she could finish the sentence, Tom's lips softly grazed over hers and she leaned into the kiss, feeling a wild bliss wash over her. Danielle wanted to pull him down to her, but his hands were still firmly clamped over hers. Instead, she daringly ran her tongue over his lower lip, smiling when she felt a shudder run through him.

Too soon, it seemed, Tom pulled away and her lips ached, wanting him back. "I believe you owe me an explanation now, Clara," he said.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Danielle replied. "I honestly have no idea—"

"Do you? Miss Taylor has told me some very… _interesting_ things," Tom continued.

Just as Danielle scrambled to think of an explanation, the door opened and a Healer walked in. She looked astonished to see her awake. "For the love of Merlin," she grinned, shaking her head. "It actually worked."

"Where is Professor Dumbledore?" Danielle asked. She needed to speak to him.

"He's back at Hogwarts," the Healer said. "But you shouldn't be awake for too long. You need your rest." She turned to Tom. "I am sorry, Mr Riddle, but visiting hours are almost over."

"Yes, ma'am," Tom said mutely. He stood up and went over to the fireplace, but not before his eyes burned into Danielle's once more and she mustered up a weak grin in response.

The Healer cast a spell to fluff up her pillows and advised, "You should go back to sleep now. Your body needs to repair itself."

Seeing as how she had apparently spent the past three months unconscious, Danielle wasn't sure how _more_ sleep would benefit her, but she grudgingly allowed herself to close her eyes and drift off to sleep, vowing to get an explanation when she next woke up.


	19. Confessions

Danielle next opened her eyes to see not Tom, but Georgina. Considering that the other girl had gone to the Valentine's Day dance with Tom and she had apparently been asking questions she shouldn't have, Danielle couldn't be blamed for being less than thrilled at her appearance.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, not pleased in the least. "Where's Tom?"

"He's back at Hogwarts. But I came to talk to you alone," Georgina answered. "I have a lot to explain."

"Really?" Danielle asked skeptically. "You'd better get started, then."

When Georgina hemmed and hawed, seemingly unable to voice her thoughts aloud, Danielle rolled her eyes. "Let me guess—you don't have an explanation, do you? What were you talking to Dumbledore about? What did you tell Tom?"

"Listen to me, Danielle!" Georgina burst out, looking stricken.

She froze, unable to believe what she had just heard. " _Danielle?_ " she whispered in wonder.

"I know lots of things about you," said Georgina, looking relieved now that the floodgates had been opened. "I know that you're a time-traveller. I know that you had two brothers. I know about Voldemort."

"Did…did Dumbledore tell you?" Danielle asked, still stunned.

"No." Georgina reached inside the neck of her sweater and pulled out an hourglass suspended on a delicate gold chain. Danielle's eyes widened and she sat up quickly, throwing her legs over the side of the bed.

"You—" she gasped. "You're a—"

"Time-traveler, yes," admitted Georgina. "I was born in 2033. I'm from 2050. I…listen, in my time, we have a different book of bedtime stories, our version of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. I grew up listening to them. But my favourite one was about a teenage girl, a time-traveler, who accidentally went back into the past and fell in love with the boy who would grow up to murder her family. When she did manage to get to back to her own time, she missed the boy so much she went into the past for good so she could be with him. But the problem was, if someone time-travels too much in a short period, they fall ill with the time-traveler's curse. It was a recent discovery where I came from…if you use a Time-Turner too often then the effects will slowly start to wear on your body and eventually kill you. This was what happened to the girl in the tale, and she died from it. The boy was sick as well from a different illness, and he died not long after she did. It's the most famous romantic tragedy and everyone hears it as least once as children…as far back as I can remember, I used to daydream about getting the boy and girl back together. There's a cure in my time for the illness, see. There's a potion."

Danielle wasn't sure what expression was on her face, and it took her a long time to be able to speak again. "How did…how did the people in 2050 know about it?"

"Nobody knows," Georgina said, shaking her head. "It's thought of as a myth. But I always believed it was true. My home life wasn't very happy, and I was a Gryffindor, so one day I did a very stupid, reckless thing. I went back to this time with the knowledge of the cure, hoping I could save you. I've been talking to Dumbledore about it and he managed to brew the potion that stopped you from dying."

"How did you get the Time-Turner?"

"My dad worked in the Department of Mysteries, so I snuck into the Ministry with him and stole one." Georgina didn't look the slightest bit guilty.

Danielle's head dropped into her hands. So she was supposed to die from the time-traveler's curse…but Georgina had come back to the past and saved her…"Does Voldemort exist in your time?" she asked.

The other girl shook her head. "He never existed in my timeline. But there were theorists, people who know more about time travel…and they figure that, in some universe, he had existed. See, it's been discovered that parallel universes and the like are real," she explained gently. "The wizarding world is…quite different from the one you grew up in, to say the least."

"So this means you changed the future," Danielle moaned. "I was supposed to die, and you saved me…were you thinking you could just go back home once I was rescued?"

Georgina visibly winced, but nodded. Danielle stared numbly at the other girl and said, "Well, I've time traveled enough to know that every little change makes a difference. Home will not be the same place that you left."

"I know," Georgina groaned. "I'm sorry, Danielle, but I regret doing this now. I wasn't thinking when I came to the past. I thought I would be a hero…"

 _Just like a Gryffindor,_ Danielle thought with no small amount of disdain. "Did Dumbledore tell you that you're stuck here?"

Georgina nodded. "He charmed my Time-Turner so that I can't go forward in time. Did he do that with yours too?"

"He took mine away completely," Danielle answered, rubbing her eyes as if everything would have changed when she opened them again.

"Now I'm stuck in the past, and of course I'm glad you're all right, but I still feel stupid." Georgina sighed and sat down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it would somehow transport her into the future.

"How come you and Dumbledore didn't tell me about this before?" Danielle accused.

"We wanted to be absolutely sure the potion would work before telling you," replied Georgina, crossing her legs and twisting her head around to look at Danielle. "But, unfortunately, you collapsed too soon. I thought you had a couple more weeks at least…"

Danielle considered this, and when she was satisfied Georgina was telling the truth she asked her next question. "What did you say to Tom? He said you had told him some, er, _very_ interesting things."

"I asked him to wonder why Legilimency doesn't work very well on us."

"Why doesn't it?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but my theory is that our minds operate on a different wavelength of sorts from everyone else. We don't belong here, so people find it difficult to get a reading on us, so to speak. But research people from my time have done shows that the opposite doesn't ring true—although people here, no matter how skilled they are at Legilimency, have difficulty extracting memories from us, it's easier for us to delve into other people's minds."

Danielle thought about that for a minute. She remembered the first time she'd visited Vauxhall Orphanage, when she was learning about Tom's childhood, she'd been bombarded with memories from Billy's head without consciously performing Legilimency on him. Could that be what Georgina was talking about?

"So what are you going to do now?" she asked.

The other girl shrugged. "Stay here, I guess. I wasn't particularly close to my family anyway. We were outcasts from most of the magical world."

"Why?"

"I'm, er, kind of Olive Hornby and Abraxas Malfoy's great-great granddaughter," Georgina said. "Word got out about a decade before I was born that they had an illegitimate child in the nineteen-forties, so pure-blood society cast us out."

Danielle raised her eyebrows. So Olive's son was Georgina's great-grandfather. It seemed hard to believe.

"Now that Tom's in love with you—" Georgina began, seeming to want to change the subject, but Danielle interrupted before she could finish her sentence.

"No. No, he's not." She looked at Georgina levelly, giving her a shrug. "I know that he cares about me…but love? I wouldn't be so quick to say that." She paused. "I know I'm in love with him, but…" The words, surprisingly, stung. She'd never given the dilemma much thought, believing it was enough that Tom Riddle even _cared_ about her, but realizing that he didn't feel as strongly about her was a definite blow.

"If you say so," Georgina said dubiously. "That brings me to my second point. You're not Danielle Bailey. I don't see why you still insist on calling yourself that. You're Clara Ashford."

Danielle bit her lip. She had always known there had been a distinction, ever since the Sorting Hat had told her there was a difference, a reason why she had been placed in Slytherin instead of Ravenclaw. But she had assumed that it was just because, at the time, she had been masquerading as an idiotic, shallow girl. Now she wondered if there was an actual truth to it.

"And you need to tell Tom. You can't keep the truth a secret forever."

Danielle nodded slowly. Of course, she knew that he would have to find out about her eventually…but she had always thought of it as an occurrence in the far-distant future, not _now_. Her stomach churned nervously as she imagined his reaction. He surely had unanswered questions abound, and although he wouldn't be able to read her mind clearly, it was sure to grate on him.

"Is that everything?" Danielle finally asked.

Georgina nodded, grinning ruefully. "I'm glad you didn't curse me," she confessed. "I know everything seems a bit farfetched."

"It does," Danielle agreed. "But I've seen far odder things in my life. And Georgina?"

The auburn-haired girl turned around just before stepping into the fire.

"Thank you."

* * *

Dylan, Alphard and Alyssa came to visit not long after Georgina left. They seemed to interpret Danielle's quietness as a sign that she was still recovering, so thankfully they didn't question her too relentlessly. They didn't stay long, Floo'ing back to Hogwarts just after an unhealthy dinner of the chocolates and candy that had been sitting on her bedside table for months. The second Alyssa's bright red hair had been swallowed up by the flames, Danielle stood up for the first time that day and walked over to the window, staring down at the street below without really seeing it. She was too lost in her thoughts to pay attention to the outside world.

Dumbledore arrived in her room later that evening. "I see you're awake and well, Miss Ashford," he said happily.

"Georgina told me everything," Danielle curtly replied, not bothering with pleasantries, and he merely nodded. "She thinks I should tell Tom the truth."

"Does she?" Dumbledore asked, still smiling.

"Should I?"

"What do _you_ feel is the right thing to do?"

Since he wasn't outright advising her against it, Danielle figured she knew what his answer was. Sighing, she dragged her hands through her hair and forced a smile. "Can you tell him I want to speak to him, please?"

"Certainly, my dear." Dumbledore left again, and not ten minutes later Tom appeared in the fireplace.

"Hi," was all Danielle said. He inclined his head toward her by way of greeting, and she continued, "I guess I, er, have a lot of explaining to do, don't I?"

He nodded again.

"Well, it's, um, it's kind of a long story," Danielle said hesitantly.

"Go ahead." He sat down in the chair next to her bed, looking impossibly handsome. Danielle cursed herself for letting his charms get to her when she should be steadfastly ignoring him.

She closed her eyes and felt the glow of the setting sun burn into her eyelids. "I'll start from the beginning, then. Tom…my name isn't…my name isn't really Clara Ashford."


	20. Turning Tables

Tom didn't answer—he simply continued to stare coldly at her. Some might assume he wasn't listening, but she knew he _was._ Quite intently, in fact. She knew that the calmer he appeared on the outside, the more concentrated he was internally. She yearned to know what his thoughts were.

"My name," she said, "is Danielle Bailey."

The words felt… _wrong_ on her tongue, and she felt almost as if she was hearing the name for the first time as well. Tom still hadn't so much as moved a muscle.

"I'm a…a time-traveler." There. It was out. Although later she would ache to know what expression was on his face, at present she was too much of a coward and was staring at the opposite wall, watching the shadows twist and arc in elaborate positions. "I was born in 1996."

Haltingly, she explained everything that had happened to her in the past eighteen months: finding the Time-Turner on her front lawn, Dumbledore forcing her to go back to the future, her coming back to 1943 because she loved Tom too much to stay away…she continued speaking until she came upon the matter of the time-traveler's curse and the reason why he had trouble using Legilimency on her. She even told him about Georgina and the fact that, if not for her, they would both be dead. She told him about everything…that is, everything except Voldemort. That, she decided, would only make things worse…if they could even _get_ any worse.

When Danielle finished her story, the room was completely dark and she could no longer see Tom's face; which was, she thought, probably for the best. She felt a sickening wave of anxiety.

What had she done? Well, for starters, she had lied to Tom Riddle whilst proclaiming she was in love with him. Even now, she was deliberately withholding information. He ought to despise her for the rest of his life. He ought to torture and kill her in the most agonizing way possible. And Danielle knew that the biggest blow was that he had cared for her too. She was the first person he had allowed himself to be completely vulnerable with, and she had deceived him.

Danielle ended with an eloquent, "Er…yeah. So…that's it." She finally dared to cast _Lumos_ so she could see his face.

For a moment, she worried that the curse would overtake him and he would attack her—but his expression was, shockingly, still blank. "I know you were not from here," he said coolly. "You are an appalling liar, _Danielle_."

She gasped at the name—how often had she dreamt about him saying it? "Tom, I…" she began, and trailed off when she realized she had nothing helpful she could add.

"Who made you tell?" he asked, his voice still calm. Too calm. "Dumbledore?"

"Georgina, actually," Danielle admitted. "But I was planning to tell you eventually—I mean, I couldn't keep it a secret from you forever."

"I see," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving hers. After months of carefully reading his face, she could tell that there was a violent emotion lurking just beneath the surface. "So, once Dumbledore had sent you to the future, you came back thinking that we would live _happily ever after_? That you could go on living a _lie_ and thinking you could deceive me?"

Danielle didn't dare answer—she was suddenly terrified. "I was planning on telling you," she said lamely. "Besides, you said yourself that you knew I wasn't from here…"

"It is just like you," Tom interrupted, and she could sense controlled fury building up in his tone, giving his normally soothing voice a dangerous edge. "To think that you could save the world and not damage anything, whilst _redeeming_ me and believing you could live a perfect life."

"Tom, I—"

"You do not realize how extremely foolish you are," Tom said, and she saw a hint of red in his eyes as he abruptly stood up. "What are you going to tell me next? That Dumbledore is a time-traveler as well?"

"I love you!" she cried brokenly, but that only fueled the rage in his eyes.

"Why I should believe that rubbish? You are a _liar_ ," he spat, and with a loud crack, he was gone. Of course—he could Disapparate now, he had taken lessons with the rest of the sixth-years and had been the first one to do it successfully. But…where had he gone?

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Danielle climbed out of bed and stumbled to the door just as Wainscott came rushing in. "I heard a noise," the Healer said worriedly. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Danielle lied. "I just fell out of bed."

* * *

She couldn't get to sleep that night. She had screwed up, that was for sure. There was no going back now, no way to know where Tom was or what he was doing.

Long after the clock had struck midnight, Danielle was staring unblinkingly at a dark spot on the ceiling when a startling crack shattered the silence and she jolted up in bed, clutching the covers in fear.

Tom was standing in front of her. While she lay frozen, he roughly grabbed her arm, ignoring her protests, and her entire body compressed painfully as he Disapparated away with her. They reappeared somewhere that was pitch black, and while Danielle's eyes struggled to adjust the pressure of Tom's arm loosened and she fell to the ground, landing hard on her left arm. She gasped with pain, tears stinging her eyes. The rough texture of grass scratched against her cheek.

"Get up!" Tom snapped, his eyes blazing a fierce red. When she continued to cower, he snarled in an absolutely terrifying tone, " _Get up_!"

"T—Tom," Danielle whispered in a desperate plea. She had never seen the curse take over him so utterly.

He jabbed his wand in her throat, cutting off her airway. "Never say that name again."

"Help," Danielle wheezed, but they were in the middle of a small, deserted clearing with nothing but trees bordering them on all sides. How could he possibly have strength enough to Apparate them this far away from London?

With her oxygen supply rapidly deteriorating, a line from the textbook she'd once read appeared in her memory: _Victims have been known to kill themselves, commit murder, and perform acts of magic that would be impossible in their normal state._

Shakily, she reached for her wand, but it was nowhere to be found. Tom must have taken it. "Please, stop," she whispered, struggling to crawl away. "You don't know what you're doing—"

"Oh, I know quite well what I am doing," he hissed. " _Crucio_!"

Danielle had had the Cruciatus Curse cast on her three times before—twice by Yaxley and once by another Death Eater—but this was beyond words. She screamed so loudly she thought her throat would tear apart, pounding her fists on the ground and writhing in agony. She lost control of all her thoughts, all her feelings—all that existed was her and pain. It was the most excruciating thing she had ever felt. She wanted to die. She tried to tell Tom to be merciful and kill her, but the only sounds that came out of her mouth were more strangled screams.

It took her a while to realize the pain had subsided before she finally squeezed open her eyes. Huge red spots were dancing in her field of vision and her body still ached with the tremors, trying to flinch away the anguish. Tears leaked out of her eyes and Danielle slowly brushed them away.

She couldn't believe what had just happened. Tom had cast the Cruciatus Curse on her. Even though he was under the influence of Vetus Periculosus, she still hadn't grasped the fact that he had actually done it. It was as if she had been betrayed by someone she trusted.

Danielle propped herself up on her elbow and squinted through the darkness to see that Tom was bent over on his hands and knees, coughing loudly. His and Danielle's wands lay on the ground next to him. She was immediately suspicious—he would never intentionally leave himself unarmed and in such a defenceless position.

As she watched, he coughed up a river of blood and his countenance rapidly turned even paler. Coughs wracked through his body as he tried to gain control of himself. When he finally looked up at her she was nearly taken aback—there was such weakness in his eyes that she sucked in a sharp breath. He might have been an entirely different person from the one who had cursed her. "Clara," he gasped, a thousand questions in his eyes.

Someone else might have taken pity on the utter helplessness that Tom Riddle was now the epitome of, but the memory of the Cruciatus Curse was still fresh in Danielle's mind. She cast a non-verbal Summoning Charm and her wand shot toward her.

"What…happened?" Tom asked. He lost his balance and began to fall over. His hand reflexively shot toward Danielle, but she backed away, letting him collapse unceremoniously on the ground.

Now it was Tom who was the vulnerable one and she held all the power. "Don't touch me," Danielle spat, and left him there, struggling to breathe.


	21. Divulgence

Danielle shook with fear and rage as she limped away from Tom, not knowing where she was going and not caring. He had used the _Cruciatus Curse_ on her. It didn't matter if he wasn't in his right mind. She was an idiot to think that she could change him.

Voldemort had killed her entire family. She wouldn't let him kill her, too.

But therein lay the problem; the one detail that stopped her from leaving that wretched world forever: She was in love with him. He wasn't in love with her. What did it matter if he _cared_ for her? She couldn't change him; he'd said so himself. She couldn't deal with him having a fragmented personality that was liable to snap and kill her at any moment.

And now that he knew everything about her, he could tell anyone her secret. The entire Hogwarts population could know that Clara Ashford was a time-traveler by tomorrow. The Ministry of Magic would want to lock her up, to test her and quiz her about the future. Or they would simply just kill her.

Danielle barely noticed when she entered the dark forest and sat on a nearby rock, not bothering to cast a protective spell. She had no idea where Tom had Apparated them. Maybe there would be an air-raid that night and she would get killed by one of the falling bombs. At least that would save Tom the pleasure of _actually_ killing her.

Everyone agreed that Tom was charming and polite outwardly, but cold and distant on the inside. Danielle had known that from the very first day she'd met him. He'd been charming to her too, at first, and when he learned that she was more intelligent than she let on he had become unfriendly toward her—he hadn't bothered with the charismatic façade he showed to everybody else. As their twisted relationship progressed, he had gradually become less distant, showing more of the _real_ Tom Riddle, who was indifferent and reserved but also astonishingly intelligent and perceptive, the hardened Riddle who had grown up knowing nothing but war and how to hide when the air-raid sirens began to screech. She was certain he had never let another human being in as far as he had let her, and that yes, maybe he did have some sort of affection for her…but it wasn't enough. And she wouldn't let herself become his sometimes-girlfriend when he didn't even want anyone to know. Sure, there were rare moments when he was _normal,_ or as normal as Tom Riddle could be, but was it worth everything else? She had become certain that he would never find the diadem. His body would become immune to Madam Cutteridge's potions soon enough, and his magic was growing weaker when he was in his normal state. She also knew that he wanted to begin creating Horcruxes, or was at least considering it. Well, he had killed Fletcher in cold blood, so he should have no qualms about killing someone else. Danielle thought of the diary she had given him for Christmas in their fifth year. What if he was planning to kill herand create that Horcrux with her death? Perhaps things wouldn't unfold the way they did in _her_ timeline, but he would most likely still become Voldemort. Maybe he would even become more powerful.

The worst part was, no matter how hard Danielle tried to convince herself otherwise, she was in love with him. She had fallen in love with Tom Riddle, and there was no denying it. He knew it, Dumbledore knew it, and Georgina knew it. The latter two pitied her, and for the first time Danielle understood why.

She felt a sudden rush of cold air as if a bird had swept over her head, and as she lit her wand she saw a figure approaching on the path ahead. Of course Tom had cast _Homenum Revelio_ to find her.

Danielle quickly cast a Shield Charm, although she knew it would be useless if he wanted to attack her. "Why did you follow me?" she asked, hating the way her voice broke.

"Why would I not follow you?" he remarked, quietly. He stopped in front of her, and Danielle could see he was swaying slightly on his feet. There were scrapes and cuts all over his face and dried blood caked the left side of his robes.

"Well," she began sourly, "Seeing as how you cast the Cruciatus Curse on me, I think I had every right to leave you."

It might have just been her overactive imagination, but she could have sworn his eyes widened. "Then I do not believe I need to explain that it was unintentional."

"I don't care if it was unintentional or not!" she nearly yelled, exasperated beyond measure.

"So if I were to cast the Imperius Curseon you and then blamed you for jinxing me, it would be perfectly justifiable?" he asked coolly.

Danielle rubbed her temples in frustration, feeling her face crumple in misery. "I can't do this anymore, Tom," she moaned. "I hate being in love with you—I wish I wasn't. I wish I'd never met you."

"Then _leave_ ," he hissed. "Run away. Go back to Hogwarts and tell your precious Dumbledore to keep me far away from you."

"But I can't," she whispered. "I've tried." Narrowing her eyes, she retorted, "Why don't _you_ stay away from _me_? You have no trouble ignoring everyone else."

Tom looked her squarely in the eye. "I cannot," he echoed. "I have tried."

"Well, looks like we're stuck then," Danielle muttered. "So why haven't you taken the easy way out yet, Tom? Why haven't you killed me?"

"I told you," he said. "I could not."

She rolled her eyes. "We both know that you can. Come on," she taunted, "Kill me now, Tom. Do it. I have nothing to lose."

" _Stop it_ ," he snarled, eyes blazing. When Danielle defiantly tried to stand, he grabbed her shoulders and forcibly held her in a sitting position. She saw a tinge of red in his eyes and immediately stilled, feeling him give a slight shudder as he tried to calm down. Without thinking about it, she put a hand on his mouth and brushed her fingers against his lips. Tom glanced downward and stared at her hand until his eyes had turned back to their normal dark blue. "I cannot kill you, Clara," he finally stated, sounding as if he were confessing a great weakness. In his mind, he probably was.

Danielle averted her gaze from his, trying to ignore the burning intensity in his eyes. "Why are you still calling me Clara?"

"Because you are Clara," he replied steadfastly. "Unless you would like me to call you Danielle." His mouth twitched.

"No, Clara's fine," she said quickly. Funny—she found she actually preferred him calling her that. "I know I'm not Danielle Bailey anymore, but I still think of myself as her…I mean, I know that's who I really _am_ , but Clara is a part of me now too."

"What was your family like?" Tom asked suddenly.

Danielle couldn't mask her surprise at the question, but gave her best effort in answering it once she had overcome her shock. "My parents' names were Elizabeth and Robert. They both worked for the Ministry of Magic." She didn't add that they were Muggle-borns, feeling that would be too much. Tom wasn't looking as if he wanted to curse her anymore, so she assumed that he must have come to some form of agreement in his mind that enabled him to accept what she was saying as fact. "My younger brother's name was Andy and he was the most annoying git ever, but I still loved him, even if I didn't act like it most of time. And William…well, I never got to know him." She lapsed into silence, wondering whether she should ask why he was suddenly so accepting of what she had told him in the hospital.

"Who was the Dark wizard who killed them?" Tom asked after a brief pause. "Was it Grindelwald?"

Danielle's eyes flew up to him, startled. "I, well, um…his name was, er…" She bowed her head in shame, prepared to defend herself if he snapped again. "V—Voldemort."

 _One…two…three…_ Danielle glanced over at Tom to make sure he was still breathing. "Voldemort," he repeated flatly.

She had no other choice but to tell him; how could she possibly lie? In a muffled voice, Danielle told him the entire truth about Voldemort and his three-decade reign over wizarding Britain, including her encounter with him in the Forbidden Forest where the _Vita Servo_ had saved her. When the full story was finally disclosed, Tom's expression was the completely blank mask he had worn when she had first met him. Usually, she could read _some_ sort of emotion on his face or in his eyes, but this time there was absolutely nothing. He was completely shut off. "And yet you are still here," was his only response, delivered without any sort of undertone or reaction.

"Yes," Danielle squeaked. "I…I love you. I don't know how many times I'll have to say it before you believe me."

Now there was something like mingled suspicion and revulsion on his face. "No," he said baldly. "There must be something you want from me. What is it, Clara?"

"There's _nothing_ I want from you, Tom!" she cried out, sounding half-mad. "You—you don't understand love—you think that I'm manipulating you. But you just can't comprehend the fact that love changes _everything_. I love you!" she shouted for the fourth time that night, sending a nest of crows scattering out of their tree, squawking loudly.

When Tom continued to look unconvinced, she let out an angry growl and grabbed his hands, yanking him to her with such force they toppled backward off the rock, landing in a bed of grass below. Danielle pressed her lips to his with all her might, not letting him pull away. When she could feel her legs starting to go numb, she kissed the tip of his nose and stared down at him. "You don't understand," she murmured again.

Before he could respond, there was a sudden loud boom that reverberated around the forest, shaking the very ground. They both looked up to discover that the light of the stars had completely disappeared, to be replaced by a dark green, shimmering expanse that stretched out across the sky as far as they could see.

"What's that?" Danielle asked, alarmed.

"Shields," Tom replied grimly. He got to his feet in one swift movement, pulling her with him and taking a small step forward as if unconsciously trying to protect her from danger.

"Against what?" Danielle asked, though she already knew the answer. There was only one threat that would alarm the Minister for Magic so much as to warrant a magical shield being created over Britain.

The emerald light reflected off Tom's eyes as he answered in a low voice. "Grindelwald."


	22. Hogwarts Deserted

"Grindelwald?" Danielle stammered, staring up at the shield. It was spectacular, appearing to be made up of billions of tiny, glowing threads. She had dismissed the Dark wizard as a shadowy threat looming in the distance, something that, while formidable, would never actually reach them.

"We have to get back to Hogwarts," Tom said, a note of urgency to his voice. He grabbed her arm and whirled her around as he turned on the spot. Danielle barely had time to catch her breath before she heard a sharp _crack_ and they Disapparated away from the dark woods.

They landed just outside the gates to the castle—or at least, where the castle was _supposed_ to be. There was nothing more than an empty valley where Hogwarts should have stood.

"Where is it?" Danielle asked in a high-pitched, nervous voice, whirling frantically around to see if she was missing something.

"The teachers must have cast a powerful defensive spell," Tom muttered. "There is no way we can get inside." He turned to Danielle. "Use your Patronus to alert them," he ordered.

She nodded and, keeping his face fixed firmly in her mind, called, " _Expecto Patronum!"_ A silver snake snake burst out of her wand and slithered into the distance.

Tom watched it disappear, and when he turned back around there was something like surprise on his face. "I thought your Patronus was a fox," he said.

"They tend to change when you fall in love," Danielle answered quietly. Tom didn't answer, but there was a strange look on his face.

She'd been expecting Dumbledore to get them, but instead the wiry, lean figure of Professor Merrythought came into view. "What in the name of Merlin are you doing _here_?" the Defense professor demanded. "Miss Ashford, you're supposed to be in St Mungo's!"

"We Apparated here after we saw the shield," Danielle explained.

With an annoyed " _hmph"_ , she led them forward where, after seemingly crossing an invisible line, Hogwarts' massive silhouette suddenly reappeared . As they trudged up the path to the castle, Danielle felt a chilly breeze from the lake blow past them and she shivered, wrapping her cloak tightly around her.

The castle appeared nearly deserted when they walked in. Dippet met them at the entrance to the Great Hall. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed when he saw them. "Why are you not still at St Mungo's, Miss Ashford? And Mr Riddle—you should know better than to leave at night!"

Neither Danielle nor Tom responded to his chiding. Danielle's attention was focused on Dumbledore, who had just come down the staircase looking very solemn. "Professor!" she said in relief. "What's going on?"

"Grindelwald has decided to attack Britain, it seems," he said tiredly. "The Ministry is assembling an army and has set up a shield that covers the entire island. Everyone will be returning home tomorrow."

"I can't leave Hogwarts!" Danielle argued. Surprisingly, Dumbledore smiled.

"I have given permission for you and Mr Riddle to stay at Hogwarts for the time being," he said. "Any student that is of age and wishes to stay may do so."

Her face broke into a relieved grin. "Thanks, Professor."

They went downstairs soon after that, and Danielle slipped into her dormitory to the astonishment of her roommates. "Back already?" Olive grumped. "I thought you were supposed to be dead."

But Alyssa was much more optimistic. "Dylan, Alphard and I are staying too!" she exclaimed. "It will be wonderful, having the whole castle to ourselves."

Danielle smiled. Despite the newfound threat hanging over their heads, it was good to be back.

* * *

Britain woke to mass hysteria. _The Daily Prophet_ published a special edition detailing the precautions one should take and advised everyone to arrange a safe place if an invasion started. The Hogwarts Express left as promised later that morning. To Danielle's surprise, very few students and professors stayed.

There were thirteen of them left in the castle: Danielle, Tom, Alyssa, Dylan, Alphard, Erik, Georgina, Dumbledore, Merrythought, Dippet, Slughorn, Cutteridge, and Holstone remained—a total of seven students and six professors. After Tom's torturing of Skender, the intimidating, menacing boy had returned to Albania (probably to report his findings to Grindelwald, Danielle thought angrily).

Since most of the students were gone, the House tables had vanished and was replaced by a smaller table where the remaining students ate together in one group. Tom didn't show up at breakfast that morning, but it didn't bother Danielle. She suspected it would be like that from now on—he rarely showed up to meals anyway.

Of course, that didn't sit as well with Alyssa. "So where's your lover?" she asked Danielle loudly. When Danielle gave her a betrayed look she rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on," she said. "Everyone here knows that you two are _together_ except for Slughorn, Merrythought and Holstone." Of course, this announcement was overheard by everyone , causing Slughorn to belch loudly in surprise. Finally realizing she had revealed too much, Alyssa gasped and offered an earnest apology, brandishing her fork so vigorously that a piece of bacon flew off and landed in Dippet's goblet.

"Tom is going to be so angry at me," she exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Clara!"

"It's fine," Danielle mumbled, feeling heat creep up into her cheeks as the three professors stared in shock at her.

"Well," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "I do believe that it is almost time to end breakfast, don't you agree?"

Danielle could have hugged him. Pushing her plate away, she immediately fled the Great Hall and went upstairs to the library, where she knew Tom would be.

He was in one of the desks close to the Restricted Section, a tower of books balancing precariously on the table. He looked up sharply when she slid in next to him. "What is it, Clara?" he asked, his tone making it clear she had interrupted him from a deep thought.

"I was wondering why you haven't cursed me into oblivion yet," she began hesitantly. "I mean…I've lied to you…I'm a time-traveler."

"I always knew you were different," Tom replied. "It is only logical that time-travel will be perfected at some point in the future."

"But you're not…you're not going to press the issue?" Danielle held her breath.

"If I wanted information from you, I would simply have to ask and you would supply the information quite willingly," Tom said carelessly. "As it is, however, the mere fact that you are here means that the future has changed; therefore, it will not be the same place you left and there is no point in me trying to figure every detail out. "

She recoiled, stung. He was talking as if she was just someone he could get answers from whenever he wanted. But Danielle realized that he _could_ manipulate her far too easily: all he had to do was brush his skin against hers and she would crumble. It was disgusting, really.

"Yes, it's mildly annoying that I fell in love with a psychopath," she shot back, speaking before she thought her words through, as usual.

Tom's eyes narrowed. "You define me in such Muggle terms?" he asked, a hint of derision creeping into the words.

"It fits you perfectly," she muttered.

"So you think I am _redeemable_?" he snarled, finally losing composure. "Why else would you fall in _love_ with a _psychopath_?"

"N—no," Danielle stuttered, taken aback. "I was just thinking about the diadem…"

"I will become normal if I am cured?" he sneered. "Is that what you want?"

She had nothing to say to that. Tom closed his books with a sharp snap and gave her a disparaging look. "Do not think you can change anything," he said before getting up and swishing out of the library.

Danielle put her head in her hands and sighed. _Could_ she change him? She had certainly thought about what would happen if he was successfully cured of his curse. She knew that he wouldn't suddenly become _good_ , for lack of a better word, but would he be less of a monster than he was before?

She had no idea.

* * *

Since there were so few students left at the castle, lessons were halted indefinitely—although they were encouraged to try to keep up with the curriculum. Danielle spent much of her time exploring the castle for the next few days, discovering hidden rooms and passageways she hadn't previously known about. It was impossible to grow tired of Hogwarts, that was for sure.

Having the Slytherin dormitory almost to herself was a wonderful bonus as well. Alyssa was the only other one there, and not having to wake up to Olive's jinxes was a luxury. Dylan and Alphard shared the boys' dormitory, and according to Dylan Tom didn't sleep there anymore. Danielle wondered where he had gone instead, although she thought she had a pretty good idea.

She steered clear of him for several days, and he didn't speak to her. Tom often got into dark, volatile moods, and not even Danielle could bring him out of them. She suspected it was better for all concerned if she gave him his space. Sometimes she needed a break from his overwhelming presence, as well.

On a cold, rainy day nearly a week after Hogwarts had closed, Danielle found herself wandering the halls aimlessly. She had just gone to the second-floor girls' bathroom to speak to Myrtle, who told her a rather amusing story about spying on the previous Head Boy sneaking into the Prefects' Bathroom, and had nothing else to do but prowl the castle. Dylan was in the library penning a letter to Felicity; the professors were no doubt gathered somewhere discussing better defences for the castle; Erik was in the Great Hall eating lunch; Georgina was outside trying to play with the giant squid; while Alyssa and Alphard were no doubt in the Prefects' Bathroom together, a rather nauseating thought. Danielle had been planning on taking a bath, but had quickly abandoned that idea after she heard giggles and splashing that sounded very much like her friends coming from the bathroom. She resolved to put as many floors between her and them as possible, and eventually found herself on the seventh floor. Sighing, she figured that her unconscious mind had known who she had wanted to really see. But Danielle knew that Tom was in the Room of Requirement, and there was no way she would be able to get inside.

Unless…

Feeling a sly grin creep over her face, Danielle crept to the end of the hallway and hid behind a corner. " _Reducto_!" she whispered, pointing her wand at the opposite wall. The rock exploded in a dusty mess of stone, sending pieces of marble crashing to the floor.

It didn't take long before Tom appeared out of a seemingly bare stretch of wall, searching for the source of the noise. While he strode off down the hallway in the opposite direction, Danielle darted to the wall just in time to see an ornately carved door begin to fade back into the wall. She grabbed the handle and flung herself inside the room, allowing herself a grin of triumph.

It was the same small bedroom they had stumbled upon when Tom had left for Albania. There was no fire in the grate, but the bed looked slept in and the desk was covered with books and papers. Again, she wondered why it wasn't a dungeon chamber like she would have assumed.

Danielle sat on the bed and waited for him to return, wondering if she should cast a Shield Charm just in case he was angry. Their last conversation hadn't exactly ended well.

The door opened and Tom came back in, looking unsurprised, though annoyed, to see her. "Hi," Danielle said, grinning at him.

His jaw clenched. "What is it, Clara?"

"I came to talk," she replied.

"About?"

"What I said earlier."

Tom glared at her through hooded eyes, not speaking.

"You don't understand that love is so powerful that it's possible I can forgive who you are."

"That, or stupidity," he spat. Danielle flinched, but his expression didn't change. "Do you think my _mother_ was so in love with my filthy Muggle father that she gave him a Love Potion and then died alone? I do not call that _love_. I call that stupidity."

 _So he knows about his parents_ , Danielle thought. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised that he had figured it out someway or another. "So you're calling me stupid?" she asked quietly.

"The fact that you choose to be in love with me is," Tom snarled.

Danielle sighed. "You tried to kill my family."

"Did I?" Tom asked quietly, looking over at her. His intense gaze, as usual, made it difficult for her to concentrate. "I have not yet."

"No, you haven't," she relented. "V—Voldemort ordered the death of all Billy Stubbs' family, but he never knew… _oh_ ," she said quietly as the pieces began to click into place.

"What?" Tom asked stiffly.

"Did you ever hear Billy say that he had a younger sister, but he never met her?" When Tom nodded, Danielle explained, "Well, she's my grandmother."

"I hope you realize how ridiculous you sound," Tom replied, raising an eyebrow in spite of himself. "So Stubbs' sister is a witch?"

Danielle shook her head. "My parents were Muggle-borns. But…but my real question is…are you still going to become Voldemort? Your friends—"

"They are not my friends," Tom said abruptly. "I was merely using them."

"A—all right," Danielle stuttered. "But…but what if you heal yourself with the diadem? I can't stop you from craving power and subjugating those who aren't pure-blood."

Tom took a long time to respond. "I do not know," he said at last. "You have changed everything." There was no clear expression in his eyes.

"But, but if it wasn't for me…if things went _according to plan_ …would you have become Voldemort and created Horcruxes?"

"Yes," Tom answered. "It is what I always desired, and I still desire it now, but as I said, you have changed everything."

Danielle wasn't sure if this was a positive or negative thing. Tom, seeming to consider the conversation over, turned back to his desk and began reading again, but she stayed sitting on his bed for a long time, wondering.


	23. Dippet's Announcement

After a long silence, Tom turned around and said, "Is there a particular reason you are still in here, Clara? You are never usually this silent for this long."

"I was wondering why you slept here," Danielle replied. "Dylan was telling me he hasn't seen you for ages."

"If you think I would prefer to sleep in a dormitory with him and Black, then your knowledge of me is laughable," Tom answered. "I have been coming here for years. None of the other students know about it."

"Well, Dylan, Alyssa, and Alphard do," Danielle admitted. "And probably Georgina too…but I doubt they're able to get inside."

"Miss Taylor is always doing things she should not be, rather like you," Tom said acerbically. "In fact, I would not be surprised in the least if I found out that she is a relation of yours."

"Actually, she's our daughter," Danielle replied with a perfectly straight face.

"Very amusing, Clara."

"Well, at least I tried," she muttered before adding, "She's Olive and Abraxas' great-great-granddaughter."

Tom looked coldly disgusted. "Is that so?" he mused. "Well, that is unsurprising."

Danielle sighed. "Sometimes I wonder why she even bothered to come back," she confessed. "She should have just let me die."

"And what good would that do?" Tom asked. "It would be a waste."

"Of what?" Danielle grumbled. "I'm not particularly talented at magic, I do more harm than help, I screwed up the entire timeline…"

The ghost of a smirk appeared on Tom's face. "But you are Clara Ashford."

"So?"

"It would be a waste to let the most irritating, stubborn, and unique person I have ever met die," he said, his eyes growing possessive. "Not the one life I can remember caring for."

Despite herself, Danielle smiled, and she leaned forward so she could press her lips against his.

* * *

Dinner was soon upon them, and Danielle managed to persuade Tom to go downstairs for the meal. They were just passing the library when they met Dylan leaving, a two-foot long parchment tucked under his arm covered in a messy scrawl. "Have you seen Lyssa or Alphard?" he asked. "I've been looking for them all afternoon."

"No, sorry," Danielle said, fighting to control her laughter. Tom looked questioningly at her and she simply shook her head. When Dylan was almost out of earshot, she called, "Oi! Dylan! Your sister's in the bath with your best mate!"

She wished she had a camera, since Dylan's expression was quite possibly the most priceless she had ever seen since she'd gotten a higher mark than Olive Hornby on a Potions essay, and she would have quite enjoyed to have a photograph to look at whenever she needed a laugh. But, alas, there was none around, and she had to settle for memorizing his look of combined shock and revulsion.

"How very charming, Clara," Tom said lazily. "If that is not enough to put someone off of their dinner, I do not know what is."

Everyone else was already in the Great Hall when they arrived. Tom and Danielle took their seats at the very end of the table. "So where were you two all day?" Georgina asked slyly.

"Studying," Danielle lied, avoiding looking at Tom. Georgina's subsequent sly grin told her she didn't believe one word.

"You were studying," she repeated slowly, but Danielle interrupted with, "Where were you?" at Alyssa and Alphard.

Alyssa immediately turned a dull shade of puce. "We were…relaxing," she said.

"But where, exactly?" Danielle pressed, giving her friend a look that said she knew _exactly_ where they had been.

"Nowhere," Alyssa mumbled, but when everyone exchanged knowing looks, she burst out, "We were in the Prefects' Bathroom, all right? Happy?"

All the professors turned to look at them, and Danielle fought to control her smirk. Her pleasure in her friends' embarrassment was probably proof that she really _had_ turned into a Slytherin. She waited for the first comment, and was surprised when Tom spoke.

"Miss MacDougal, as a Prefect, I am afraid I am going to have to take twenty points off Slytherin for you and Mr Black, shall we say, _gallivanting_ in the Prefects' Bathroom. Although the school is closed, the usual rules still apply," he said, tone as polite as ever.

"Stuff it, Riddle," Alyssa said through a mouthful of turkey. "You're just jealous because it wasn't you and Clara."

Danielle felt heat rise up in her cheeks as Alphard and Georgina snorted. "Sod off, Alyssa," she mumbled.

"I assure you that if Miss Ashford and I _were_ to engage in such an activity, we would be perfectly authorized to do it, as we are both Prefects," Tom replied, smirking. This earned him a look of astonishment from everyone, including a flabbergasted Danielle.

"I believe Mr Riddle won that round," Dumbledore announced cheerfully. Danielle felt herself turn even redder and she bowed her head, staring unseeingly down at her untouched food.

"Well," Dippet said, clearly flustered and wanting to break the awkward tension, "Now that everyone is here, I would like to announce that we will be holding mandatory Dueling Practice from now on."

Everyone looked at each other, startled. "Why, sir?" Georgina asked.

"Well, you need to know how to prepare yourselves against Grindelwald, if he chooses to attack Hogwarts," Dippet replied. "All of the teachers here have agreed to teach you what you need to know."

Danielle and Erik exchanged a worried glance. "When does it start?" Dylan asked.

"It will take place three times a week, on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights from eight PM to midnight," answered Dippet. "Once you are all trained enough, then we will begin mock duels."

They were dismissed soon afterward, Erik being the first to jump up and run out of the Hall, presumably to practice his spellwork. Danielle trailed after Alyssa and Alphard, who were both still annoyed at her comments. She was waiting for Tom at the foot of the Grand Staircase so she could bid him goodnight when Erik slowly walked up to her. "Clara?" he asked shyly. "D'you think…d'you think you could teach me how to duel? I'm not very good at magic…"

"You want me to teach you?" Danielle asked, frowning. "Are you sure that's the best idea? You should ask Tom, he's loads better at it than I am…"

"But I'm scared of him," Erik confessed.

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Fine."

He smiled and unexpectedly hugged her. Danielle awkwardly hugged him back, and just as he left she met Tom's emotionless eyes as he passed her up the stairs. Oh, dear. Could he possibly be jealous?

She called after him, but he didn't respond. _Merlin_. Danielle rolled her eyes and gave up, going down to the dungeons. Well, if he wanted to act like a petulant child, he could do it all he wanted.


	24. Tutoring Erik

"You're helping _Erik Dahl?_ " Georgina snickered that night when Danielle told her about his request. They were sitting in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, despite the Fat Lady's protests. Georgina had argued with the portrait for twenty minutes, saying that it didn't matter anymore since they were the only students around, and wasn't she always on about unity of the Houses? But Danielle had to admit, the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms were much more alike than most people believed, and was secretly amused at the thought.

"Yes," Danielle replied, slightly defensively. "Well, I couldn't say no…"

"For the love of Merlin, are you a Slytherin or not?" Georgina chuckled. "Guess you're still a Ravenclaw at heart. Why'd he ask _you_ , anyway?"

"I dunno," Danielle said uncomfortably. She disliked the other girl's overly skeptical tone, as if she were the _last_ person one would go to for help.

"Maybe he fancies you," Georgina exclaimed, waggling her eyebrows. "First Dylan, then Riddle, now Erik…"

"No," Danielle said immediately, shaking her head. "He's like that around all the other girls. I'm just the one he's most comfortable with."

"Oh," Georgina replied, disappointed her theory had been proven wrong. "Well, Tom doesn't know that, does he?" She winked.

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ …Riddle needs to be brought down a peg or two. Look at him, strutting about the school as if he owns it. And the possessive way he looks at you, as if he's the only one who's allowed to. Introduce some healthy competition, you know?"

"Georgina, do you _remember_ who Tom grows up to be where I came from? Are you suicidal?"

An expression of pain flashed across Georgina's face, and her merry expression faltered for a second. Danielle instantly felt guilty. "Anyway," she said hurriedly, trying to move on, "I don't think getting Tom jealous is a good idea. Especially since Erik can't defend himself as it is…"

"I s'pose you're right," Georgina said in a slightly dejected tone.

The conversation trailed off soon after, and Danielle left to go back to the Slytherin common room, ignoring the Fat Lady's subtle insults after her. What was _that_ all about?

* * *

Danielle met Erik at the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room the next afternoon before the first dueling practice began. The Sorting Hat had considered putting her into Hufflepuff when she had first tried it on at the age of eleven—it had debated for a while, but had eventually decided on Ravenclaw. When she had come back to the past, it had put her into Slytherin with barely a moment's hesitation. She wondered if it would Sort her into Gryffindor if she tried it on a third time. Well, she guessed that would prove something that Dumbledore once said—everyone had qualities from each of the Houses in them. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Tom had been Sorted into a different House. Would the fate of the wizarding world have changed? If _she_ hadn't been Sorted into Slytherin, would he even have given her a second thought? Now, after Georgina's comment the previous night, Danielle felt as if she didn't belong anywhere.

Erik finally stumbled out of the common room ten minutes later. "You're here!" he said happily, waving his wand wildly in excitement. There was a loud _boom_ and he accidentally singed the top of his hair off, where it began to smoke faintly.

Danielle put out the smoke with a wave of her own wand and struggled not to laugh. "Where d'you want to practice?" she asked.

Erik shrugged. "Outside?" he suggested.

Danielle nodded in agreement as they made their way back upstairs to the Hogwarts grounds. Alyssa and Alphard were sitting under the beech tree, their legs dangling in the water. Danielle could see the huge shadow of the giant squid bobbing just under the surface, waiting to nibble on their toes when they weren't paying attention.

They stopped at the edge of the lake and Danielle felt the strange prickling sensation she had come to associate with Tom watching her. Narrowing her eyes, she glared up at the castle windows, trying to spot him-but of course she couldn't.

"Promise you won't curse me?" Erik asked. Danielle finally tore her eyes from the windows and nodded again.

"All right, I'm going to cast a simple Disarming Charm and you try to deflect it," she announced. "Ready?"

Erik held out his wand with shaking hands. Danielle raised her own and said in a loud voice, " _Expelliarmus!_ "

There was a flash of red light and Erik was blasted backwards, tumbling over in the grass. He stood up quickly, brushing the dirt from his robes. "Let's try again, shall we?" Danielle asked. She repeated the spell again, but this time Erik shouted, " _Protego!"_ and the spell was deflected away from him.

"Great!" she encouraged. "Now let's try something a little bit more advanced. _Flipendo!_ "

Erik wasn't prepared for the sudden spell, but managed to conjure up a Shield Charm just in time. He was knocked back half a step, but didn't collapse like he would have done if he'd gotten the full force of the charm.

"You're doing great!" Danielle exclaimed. "Now, try to hex me this time." Erik sent a simple " _Expelliarmus!"_ at her, and she easily blocked it with a Shield Charm. When he tried again, this time with a Tickling Charm, Danielle turned the spell into a shower of harmless flies, which zoomed at Erik. To her amazement, he Vanished them all.

"Wow, that was really great," she said uncertainly. "You know, Erik, I think you'll be just fine."

"Clara!" she heard Alyssa call dimly from the other side of the lake. Danielle automatically spun around, and while her back was turned Erik cast a jinx so powerful it knocked her clean off her feet and right into the lake.

Coughing and spluttering, Danielle swam back up to the surface; with the squid wrapping one long tentacle around her and setting her upright, she pulled herself out of the water. After casting a Drying Charm on herself (though it wasn't entirely perfect; water still dripped from the ends of her hair) she stared at Erik in astonishment. "I don't know how I did that," he muttered shamefacedly.

Danielle could hear her friends' laughter from a hundred feet away. "Well," she said, "If you keep _that_ up, you'll have no problem."

* * *

Alyssa, Dylan, Alphard and Danielle found themselves at the entrance to the Great Hall at five minutes to eight that evenng. Georgina, Erik and Tom had already shown up. The seven students all glanced nervously at each other, not knowing what to say.

"How are we supposed to split up into pairs?" Alyssa asked. "One of us will have to duel a teacher."

"I vote Riddle," Dylan said loudly. "He's the best out of all of us."

Everyone nodded in agreement, while Tom gave a vague smirk in response. A moment later, the doors swung open and Dippet let them in. "Ah, I'm pleased to see that you're all on time. Very good, very good…"

The professors were already all lined up when they walked into the Hall. "Gather round!" Dippet called. "Now, before we begin the practical aspect, I would like to begin with a short introduction. Dueling for fun has long been an enjoyable and pleasurable sport among wizards and witches. However, during times like these, it takes on a more dangerous aspect."

"I'll say," Georgina muttered in Danielle's ear.

"It takes a massive amount of energy and strength, and one must be in the right frame of mind. The body must obey the mind's commands, or else there is huge potential for embarrassment."

Georgina snorted from beside her, and Danielle couldn't help grinning as well. It had been a long time since she'd laughed at something so lighthearted.

"Now," Dippet said, frowning at them, "It is not the size of the wand that matters. It is how you choose to use it. Some of the shortest wands can produce the most impressive displays of magic—"

"I beg to differ, sir," Georgina said, voice wavering, and Danielle clapped her hand over her mouth, poorly disguising her chuckles. "I've had plenty of, er, experience with short wands, and let me tell you, that's all just talk."

"Thank you for your opinion, Miss Taylor," Dippet replied. "But my wand is quite short. Would you call me weak?"

"I'd prefer not to think about that, sir," Georgina said brashly. Danielle turned her laugh into a muffled cough while the other students stared at them in confusion.

"As I was saying," Dippet loudly continued, "As you prepare to duel, close your eyes and let the magic flow through your body. You should feel the power slowly build up in your veins and come to a point in your—"

" _Georgina_ ," Danielle hissed before the other girl could shout out a term that would land both of them in detention for the remainder of the year.

"—Before you achieve that wonderful release and the magic flows out of you…"

"From where, sir?" Georgina asked. Danielle bit her lip so hard she could feel it tear slightly and blood beginning to drip into her mouth.

"Merlin!" Alyssa suddenly shouted. "I get it!"

"Ironic that it took you this long, since I would assume you are the most experienced at it," Georgina shot back. The two girls glared at each other.

Dippet was pretending to ignore them. "Now, there are some common problems that wizards will face. The first one is where the magic does not flow properly, and instead of a solid spell you will only get a trickle of sparks, or you are unable to produce anything from your wand at all."

"I think they have potions for that, sir," Danielle whispered, unable to control herself. She shook with silent tears as Georgina stuffed her face inside her robes to keep from laughing out loud.

Alyssa giggled and even Dylan and Alphard were smirking. Erik, however, just seemed confused, and Tom looked disapproving.

"Miss Ashford, since you seem so keen on the matter, how about you be my first volunteer?" Dippet asked, annoyed.

Embarrassed, Danielle stepped up to the front of the room, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Her hair was still frizzy and sticking straight up in some places from her fall in the lake that afternoon.

"I want you," Dippet began, conjuring a pillow out of thin air, "To non-verbally cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ and levitate this over to me."

Danielle, who had never been good at non-verbal spells, gulped and raised her wand. _Wingardium Leviosa!_ she thought firmly. The pillow flopped onto its side, but didn't rise into the air.

"Better luck next time, Miss Ashford," Dippet said uncaringly. "Mr Dahl, would you like to give it a try?"

Blushing furiously, Danielle slipped back between Alyssa and Dylan. Erik stepped up to the pillow, and to everyone's surprise, levitated the pillow with seemingly no effort. "It worked!" he cried. "Thanks for helping me, Clara!"

"You _helped_ him?" Dylan asked, a note of disbelief in his voice. Danielle nodded.

He was called up next, then Tom, then Alyssa…everyone could levitate the pillow with no problem-everyone but Danielle. Dippet sorted them into pairs—Alyssa and Georgina, Erik and Alphard, Dylan and Tom. Danielle was paired with Professor Merrythought, who shot such a barrage of complicated spells at her she ended up physically jumping out of the path of most of them. Frustrated and annoyed, she was about ready to give up when Holstone approached her. "Ready, Miss Ashford?" he asked.

Danielle quickly cast a Shield Charm, but it soon became clear that it wasn't enough. A jet of blue light flew at her and she quickly repelled it, but not before feeling its heat burn her skin. She could do nothing but throw Disarming Charms at him, while he dueled her with elaborate and complex spells. When Dippet mercifully ended the practice, Danielle rubbed her singed arm, glaring at Holstone's back as he retreated without a word.

Everyone filed out of the Great Hall talking excitedly. "How did you do, Clara?" Tom asked her.

She scowled. He knew perfectly well that although the curse was slowly draining him of his power, he was still better on his worst day than she was at her best. "Fine," she muttered.

He smirked, as if he could tell what she was thinking. "Perhaps you should get Mr Dahl to tutor _you,_ not the other way around," he told her with more than a hint of superciliousness, and Danielle clenched her teeth to keep from shooting an insult back at him, feeling spent.


	25. Inadequate

One of the best things about Hogwarts being closed was that there were no exams, and Danielle spent the days where exams would have normally taken place lounging around the castle, doing everything _but_ schoolwork. She might still be a "Ravenclaw at heart", as Georgina had put it, but that didn't mean she had to be disappointed about the lack of exams.

The nation was still under tight security, and by some miracle Grindelwald's army hadn't managed to infiltrate the country. Nonetheless, the Dueling Club was still mandatory-much to Danielle's dismay.

" _Rictu—_ "

Tom smirked as her spell was deflected yet again. They were standing in the middle of the Great Hall facing each other as though preparing for a mortal showdown. Dippet, it seemed, enjoyed torturing her.

Danielle set her jaw in concentration. " _Expell_ —" Of course, the dark-haired Slytherin in front of her blocked the spell before the word even fully left her mouth.

 _Imped—_ she thought, trying a different approach, but Tom interrupted, "Are you even putting up an effort, Miss Ashford?"

Dylan and Alyssa snickered from the front row. A wave of boiling anger surged through Danielle, and a spell burst forward from her lips without her consent: " _Oppugno!"_

The cutlery scattered on the table rose in one great silver wave and launched at Tom. He was forced to Transfigure it into a swarm of birds, which twittered and began to fly around the room.

"Wonderiul Transfiguration, Mr Riddle!" Dippet exclaimed. "Albus would be proud. As for you, Miss Ashford…well, Mr Riddle is a difficult opponent for anyone."

Tom's smirk grew wider in triumph, and Danielle turned away, stomping back to where her friends waited. "He could at least let you win every once in a while," Georgina said. "But, I have to admit, it's interesting to watch."

Danielle glared at her. "How about _you_ try it and see how interesting it is _then_?"

Her friend snorted. "Are you mad?"

They watched Alphard and Dylan duel, with Alphard finally Disarming the other boy, and with that Dueling Club was finished. "I don't see how this is going to make us stronger," Danielle moaned to Georgina. "In fact, I think it's making us worse."

But the other girl wasn't paying attention. She remained quiet until they had left the Hall before suddenly asking, "Do you miss your family?"

"Of course," Danielle admitted. "I used to have nightmares about them all the time. Dumbledore gave me some Calming Draughts to help with it. But sometimes I still feel…" She trailed off, unable to describe in words the sickening sting of loneliness that would hit her at the most inopportune times. Her heart contracted at the very thought.

"I miss my family too, even though we didn't get along," Georgina confessed. "Sometimes I wish…" When Danielle gave her a curious look, she shrugged and stuffed her hands inside her robes. "Never mind."

They continued to walk in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Georgina was the first to break it. "We're losing the war," she said bluntly. "Have you heard the teachers talking? Grindelwald's forces are gaining on us. Even Dumbledore isn't sure he'll be able to defeat him."

Goosebumps raised along Danielle's arms as she considered that outcome. If _Dumbledore_ was worried..."When do they think he'll invade?" she asked.

Georgina shrugged. "Nobody knows. But I...I think I might have an idea, and the more I've thought about it the more I'm positive it will work...I just need someone else's opinion..."

"What is it?" Danielle asked urgently. "You can trust me."

Georgina opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a yell of "Clara!" from the floor below.

Frustrated at the interruption, they both turned to see Erik sprinting up the stairs toward them, clutching his side. "Hi," he panted, turning even redder when he saw Georgina. "I was, um, wondering if you could help me out."

"Go ahead," Danielle said, unable to keep the irritation from her voice.

He looked nervously over at Georgina. "Alone, if you don't mind."

Rolling her eyes, Georgina left without another word. Danielle made a mental note to bring up the matter again the next day as she cast _Muffliato_ so no one else would be able to overhear their conversation. (If Tom happened to be nearby, he wouldn't recognize the spell since it was invented years after his time at Hogwarts, so he would undoubtedly be confused and would become more interested in figuring out the spell than on their conversation).

"Yes?" Danielle questioned.

"I, well, I kind of, fancy someone," Erik blushed.

"Who?"

"Georgina," he whispered, looking absolutely humiliated.

Danielle refrained from making a snide comment with great difficulty. Georgina had thought that Erik fancied _her_. Of course he didn't. Georgina was tall and gorgeous, while Danielle…wasn't. "Have you even talked to her?"

"Once or twice," he admitted. "But she doesn't even look me in the eyes..."

"Well, talk to her more often," Danielle said. "You'll never know otherwise."

He nodded slowly. "But she's so _mysterious_. Kind of like Tom."

"Is she?" Danielle asked vaguely.

"He's very...odd. I'm scared of him," Erik replied. "How did you two meet, anyway?"

"We were both Prefects and I _hated_ him at first," Danielle confessed. "But…the circumstances changed, I guess, and I eventually realized I didn't hate him anymore. Not since…"

"What?" Erik asked curiously.

"N-never mind." She cringed at her obvious discomfort.

"He's ill sometimes," he ventured. "Do you know what that's all about? Why doesn't he go to the hospital wing?"

"He does take potions," Danielle automatically replied before realizing she'd revealed too much.

"What kind of potions?" Erik asked.

"Just a type of healing potion," she said firmly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you this."

"You can trust me," he encouraged, smiling shyly.

"Tom would be angry if I told you," Danielle answered. "D'you want him mad at you?"

Erik's eyes became as wide as Galleons and he quickly shook his head before changing the topic. This time he appeared to struggle to find the correct words. "Do you...love him?"

"Yes," Danielle answered truthfully, feeling she could answer that much.

"It must be nice," he said softly.

"Not really," she answered wryly. "He's…difficult sometimes."

"I think that I could fall in love with Georgina one day," Erik confided. "I just want to get to know her. Maybe you could...mention me to her? You could see how she reacts."

"If you want," Danielle said, attempting to grin. His awkwardness was endearing when it wasn't directed at her...but she couldn't see him and Georgina together. It would be like Tom announcing he was in love with Dylan.

"Clara? What are you laughing at?" Erik asked.

Danielle shook her head, fighting the sudden attack of giggles. "I'll ask Georgina about you, Erik," she told him. "I promise."

He smiled widely. "Thank you so much!"

But Danielle felt as though Georgina wouldn't take too kindly to his undying declaration of passion. Merlin, had no one ever taught that boy basic social skills?

* * *

But their conversation came back to haunt her that night as she lay awake in bed staring up at the ceiling. She had to admit that she had almost believed Georgina's words. So many fantastical things had happened to her in the past eighteen months that she hadn't found it at all difficult to believe another one.

But all she had done was irrevocably screw up the timeline. Perhaps Tom was fascinated with her only because she was different. She was out of the ordinary, and _anyone_ out of the ordinary would have sufficed to capture his attention. It wasn't because of _her_ , it was because of her circumstances. She would get herself killed thinking she loved him, when it was just a childish, silly dream.

Danielle had allowed herself to believe she was special. But what if she really wasn't?

She thought of the time when Dylan had fancied her. But, she knew now, it hadn't been _her_ he fancied. He had been interested in the new girl, someone who was different from the limited choices he had at Hogwarts. He would have fancied any girl who was in her place. That was why he had moved on to Felicity so quickly—he had realized she wasn't anything different at all.

What if Tom was the same way? What if, once he had grown tired of her, he would dispose of her like he had disposed of his followers when they ceased to become useful to him?

Danielle shuddered, feeling inadequate and sick at heart.

* * *

Tom Riddle was walking up to the seventh floor that night when Holstone appeared out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Mr Riddle, would you mind if I had a word with you?" he asked.

"No, sir," Tom said, polite as ever, and followed the teacher into his adjoining office. Holstone shut and locked the door behind him before turning to Tom.

"Let's not beat around the bush, Mr Riddle. As I said to you eight months ago, you don't have much time left to live. I would imagine that you are looking quite desperately for a cure for Vetus Periculosus."

There was no mistaking the flash of annoyance in Tom's eyes. "How do you know this, sir?" he asked, struggling to keep his tone civil. "Did the Headmaster tell you?"

"No, I figured it out myself," Holstone replied with more than a touch of arrogance. "Dippet sent me to keep an eye on you—he doesn't trust you as he once did—and he picked me for a reason. I knew what you were afflicted with as soon as I saw you. I can tell that have the will and determination to find a cure. But what are you doing about it? I have connections. I can help you."

"I am figuring things out on my own," Tom said stiffly. "I appreciate your concern, Professor, but—"

"If you were figuring things out on your own then you wouldn't be ill anymore," Holstone said frankly. "Stop relying on Miss Ashford. She cannot help you. Your infatuation with her will soon pass."

Tom clenched his jaw. Holstone didn't miss this, and his hand came crashing down on the table with a loud bang. "You believe her to be just a pawn," he snarled. "But she is _not_. You are lying to yourself. You would have disposed of her a long time ago if you truly did not care about her. Now, you are looking for Ravenclaw's diadem, are you not?" Before Tom could respond, he continued, "You were asking Skender Bardhi where it was. Of course, the boy did not know. I highly doubt Grindelwald would tell a boy he was trying to smuggle into the castle his secrets-yes, I overheard your conversation with Miss Ashford months ago. You ought to be more mindful of your surroundings! Anyone can be hiding in the shadows, listening to everything you say."

"Of course, sir," Tom said mutely. "I will be more careful next time...and perhaps you should be as well." He stared at Holstone for another second, and the professor's eyes glazed over as a non-verbal Memory Charm washed over him.

"Why, hello," he said lamely, looking over at Tom. "Who are you?"

"I do believe you need some rest, sir," Tom replied. He smiled and easily let himself out of the room. That was the last time a Ministry of Magic employee would learn any of his secrets.

* * *

Georgina stood in the middle of the empty Gryffindor common room, her suitcase lying by her feet. She had spent the past three hours packing her things. The useless Time-Turner hung around her neck. She took one last, fond glance around the room before opening the window with a flick of her wand and climbing outside.


	26. Last Hope

There was no sign of Georgina at breakfast the next morning. After asking the others if they had seen her, and receiving a negative response, Danielle trudged up to the portrait of the Gryffindor common room to try and convince the Fat Lady to let her in.

"Miss Taylor has not left the common room this morning, I assure you!" the enormous lady cried, brandishing a napkin.

"Can you please let me in?" Danielle begged. "She's never been late before."

"I'm afraid I cannot. You are not a Gryffindor and you don't know the password!" the portrait answered. "If you were accompanied by one, then perhaps I might relent."

Danielle ground her teeth in frustration. "But I—"

" _Amor Vincit Omnia,_ " a smooth voice said from behind her, and she whirled around to see Tom standing there.

"How did you know that?" Danielle demanded.

"I heard Miss Taylor saying it yesterday," Tom explained. "She is not very practiced in the art of subtlety, in case you have not noticed." He turned his gaze onto the Fat Lady, who groaned but grudgingly swung open.

"What is this school coming to?" she could be heard muttering as she downed another glass of champagne. "Letting Slytherins into the Gryffindor common room…next the Houses will be done away with!"

Ignoring the moody portrait, Danielle hurried into the common room, calling out, "Georgina!" as she did.

"Why do you need to see her?" Tom asked, looking at their scarlet surroundings with unmitigated disgust.

"The Fat Lady says she hasn't been out all day. Something's wrong." Danielle had come to only one possible conclusion, one that she wanted to smack herself for overlooking—but if it proved to be true…

"Wait here!" she called to Tom, who for once seemed more than happy to oblige, taking the steps two at a time up to the girls' dormitory. She threw open the door to reveal—

…nothing. There was no one there, and no sign of luggage or personal items. All the beds were made and it looked completely deserted. That made no sense. Unless the Fat Lady was lying, Georgina had snuck out.

Feeling panicked, Danielle rushed back down to Tom. "She's gone!" she cried.

He raised an eyebrow. "That is unfortunate," he drawled, though he couldn't look any more indifferent about the matter.

"She was telling me that she missed home and wanted to go back if she found a way," Danielle exclaimed. "And now…she's gone."

"So…you propose that we go _find_ her?" Tom asked in disbelief after a long silence, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "This is a new level of absurdity, Clara, even for you."

"But she knows how to defeat Grindelwald!" Danielle exclaimed. "She was about to tell me—but Erik interrupted her-"

Without another word, she dashed out of the common room and down the Grand Staircase in the direction of Dumbledore's office. Tom caught up with her easily, cornering her and pushing her back against the wall. He rested his palms on either side of her head and stared directly into her eyes, his own flickering back and forth between each of hers. "You are not seriously considering this?" he asked. "You do not know where to find a Time-Turner, not to mention you do not know what year to go to."

"Dumbledore will know!" she cried, as if the Transfiguration professor would hold all the answers. Tom sighed exasperatedly, but before he could respond there was a crash from farther down the hallway. They both turned around, but there was no one in sight.

Tom took a step back and pointed his wand at the sound. However, his search apparently yielded nothing, because he slowly lowered it looking frustrated.

Without waiting for him, Danielle headed down the hallway. As she passed the Prefects' Bathroom she skidded to a stop as her eyes fell on a folded piece of parchment tucked under the door. As she picked it up, the door swung open of its own accord and the ghost of Myrtle Pratt stared down at them. "What do you want?" she wailed.

"Why aren't you in your own bathroom?" Danielle asked. "There's no one here."

"Do you think it's fun, hanging around in the same bathroom all day?" Myrtle demanded. "I like to have a bit of variety. Not that anyone cares." When she spotted Tom, she immediately brightened. "You never come in here, Tom," she lamented. "I would have liked that…"

Admittedly, Danielle couldn't think of many females who would pass up the chance to spy on Tom Riddle in the bath (she certainly wouldn't), but the consequences if he ever found out _certainly_ wouldn't be worth it.

While Tom was left to think up a charming comeback, she opened the note and frowned. There was a date written on it:

_31/07/2050_

"That's impossible…" Danielle muttered as Tom snatched the note from her hand. "It looks like my writing."

"Yes, judging by the indecipherable scrawl, I would assume it is," he said cuttingly.

"But how would—" Her expression suddenly smoothed out. "Tom, this is from my future self! This is the date that Georgina went back to!"

He didn't look convinced. "It could be a trap," he began, but Danielle wasn't in the mood for his cynicism.

"Dumbledore has my Time-Turner," she breathed, and sprinted off down the hall. Tom easily kept up with her and she hammered on the door of the Transfiguration professor's office not sixty seconds later. After an agonizingly long time, Dumbledore finally opened it, looking very surprised to see them there.

"Good afternoon, Miss Ashford, Mr Riddle," he said, inclining his head to them. "What brings you to my office in such a frenzy?"

In a breathless voice, Danielle explained what she had found out that day. "…And Georgina knows how to stop Grindelwald, Professor. I have to go find her."

Dumbledore's eyes, as bright a shade of blue as Tom's were dark, zeroed in on both of them, first surveying Danielle, then Tom himself. She waited on tenterhooks for his answer. "How exactly did she get into the future?" he asked.

"I don't know," Danielle admitted, "But that's not the point, is it? We have to go—"

"Patience, Miss Ashford," the professor said, holding up a hand. Slowly, he retreated back behind his desk and pulled out a box that Danielle was sure she had never seen before. He reached inside it and lifted up her Time-Turner, letting it dangle slowly in the air as it refracted light off the dust particles floating around the room. "You would go with her?" he asked Tom suddenly. When the Slytherin nodded, a smile crossed Dumbledore's lips. "I thought so," he said in a low voice, almost to himself. "Your thirst for knowledge and hatred of being left out means it would be impossible for you to refuse…as well as…" He looked thoughtfully over at Danielle before trailing off.

"Please say yes, Professor!" she begged.

After another unbearable silence, Dumbledore spoke again. "You would not be able to do it here-you would need to go to London first. But…if done properly, we might stand a chance."


	27. Into the Unknown

Danielle could hardly believe what she was hearing. "You're actually letting us do this, sir?" she asked hesitantly. "Going a hundred years into the future to find Georgina?"

"It appears as if it is our best hope, Miss Ashford," Dumbledore said gravely. "Grindelwald's army could attack at any moment, and I fear that even I will not be able to put up an adequate fight against him. If Miss Taylor truly does know of a way to stop him, then it certainly doesn't hurt to try."

"What about the time-traveler's curse?" she continued. "Will we have to find a remedy for it once we arrive in 2050?"

"There is still some extra potion left from when you were in the hospital. If you and Mr Riddle take a sufficient amount before you depart, you should be safe," Dumbledore said. "He will need to bring along some of his own potions, however. I will ask Julia to prepare some more for him."

"When are we to leave?" Tom asked.

"I believe tomorrow morning would be best," replied Dumbledore. "I will make the necessary preparations tonight."

"You're not going to give me another _Vito Servo,_ sir?" Danielle asked hopefully.

Dumbledore chuckled, shaking his head. "I am afraid that option is not available this time," he answered.

"But...it could have catastrophic consequences," Danielle said softly. "What if we fail?"

Dumbledore turned from his position by the window, and there was infinite sadness in his eyes. "This appears to be our only hope," he said.

* * *

When they left his office, the shadows across the floor were growing longer and Danielle's stomach was beginning to rumble in hunger. "Are you going down to supper?" she asked Tom.

Unsurprisingly, he shook his head and after bidding him goodnight Danielle went downstairs to the Great Hall, where Alyssa looked surprised to see her.

"Where's Tom?" Alyssa asked.

Danielle frowned. "I don't know."

"Oh," said Alyssa blankly. But weren't you—never mind." Shaking her head, she turned back to her plate, leaving Danielle to eat her dinner in confusion.

* * *

She headed back to her dormitory early so she could pack without being asked any awkward questions. Just in case they were forced to stay for a long period of time, Dumbledore had told them it would be advisable to bring their luggage.

When she had packed up her few belongings, she sat down on her bed and stroked Alistair's head absent-mindedly. It had seemed straightforward at first—all they had to do was travel to the date that was written on the note. Tom had thought it might have been a trap, but Danielle could recognize her writing anywhere. She wondered how it had even made its way to 1944. At any rate, Dumbledore had tested the note for any traces of Dark Magic and it had come out perfectly safe.

As much as she was ecstatic that Tom was coming with her this time, she knew he had to have an ulterior motive. Like Dumbledore had said, his thirst for knowledge was the deciding factor. She wouldn't make the same mistake of thinking that he was doing it all for her again.

 _But,_ a small voice whispered in the back of her mind, _what if you fail_?

What if they were unable to find Georgina and convince her to come back? What if something went wrong with the Time-Turner and they were stuck in 2050 forever? What if the curse took control of Tom? Georgina hadn't said anything about the discovery of a cure for Vetus Periculosus, so Danielle assumed that the Healers of the future would be no help if Tom fell ill. He was seventeen and a half years old…that meant he had two and a half more years to live, if that. Since Voldemort wouldn't exist in this timeline, perhaps that meant the diadem was still hidden deep in an Albanian forest. Danielle felt a spark of hope as she realized that they would be able to travel to the continent and search for it there—surely they would be able to Apparate by then.

Now all that was left to do was wait. She wanted to sleep, but knew that she would be getting far too little of it tonight.

* * *

Tom did not sleep very much that night either, but it was for entirely different reasons. He wasn't nervous about what the next day would bring as Danielle was; on the contrary, he was impatient and wanted to begin as soon as possible.

The prospect of going to the future, discovering things that _no one else_ knew about, was wonderfully enticing. Infinite possibilities lay within arms' reach—discovering the diadem and learning about new kinds of magic. He could find more effective ways to gain power and keep a strong hold on it.

He couldn't care less about the Taylor girl—she knew too much about him, anyway. He would have to do something about that. Mentally reprimanding himself for not acting sooner, he stared at the flickering candle on the corner of his desk, his blue eyes reflecting the light and turning an orange hue. Of course, he couldn't let Clara do things alone either-she would undoubtedly ruin it somehow. Tom smirked in spite of himself as his thoughts turned to her yet again. The number of times she appeared in his thoughts, entirely unbidden, had used to anger him, but now he found himself almost _welcoming_ it. Caring about someone else was a weakness-he couldn't deny that-but he saw no harm in associating with Clara just yet. Besides, he enjoyed the way he felt when he was around her, and Tom believed he deserved a reward for being patient his entire life. No one could say he didn't like experimentation, and the feeling of her lips moving against his, feeling her heartbeat against his chest, was entirely new to him. Why should he deny himself that sensation, when she was all too willing to offer it to him?

And yet…he had allowed himself to be helpless in front of her, a thought he often came back to. He remembered showing her the meadow at the edge of Hogwarts' grounds and then turning a rose into a dove—he'd acted little more than a lovesick fool. That particular memory disgusted him-he'd sorely regretted his actions afterward.

She'd deluded herself into thinking she was in love with him. That was impossible—everyone thought they were in _love_ , didn't they, when they really weren't. Tom had known it since he was a child—Mrs Cole would absent-mindedly tell the children they were loved and then beat them until they didn't even know their own names. He saw it in the faces of Muggle women, bidding their husbands tearful goodbyes as they went off to war, and then carrying on an affair with their wealthy neighbours. He saw it in the faces of Hogwarts students while they carried on their petty, shallow romances. The whole _reason_ he was dying, forced to drink potions to stay alive, was the result of this so-called _love_ -Salazar Slytherin had cursed his son because he'd married Helena Ravenclaw. After much observation, Tom had to conclude that love was nothing more than a weak illusion. It didn't exist, no matter how much Clara and that fool Dumbledore tried to convince themselves otherwise. It was much like the existence of God. Humanity—more specifically, Muggles—had needed to create a "supreme being" to hold power over them and dictate the laws they were forced to follow. Even as a young child, Tom had scoffed over this—if "God" was so loving, why was he stuck in an orphanage while spoilt young children ran around the streets laughing at him? Mrs Cole had given him a sound lashing for that, but it didn't stop Tom from wondering about it. Why would anyone want to put their fate in the hands of some mythical god when they could wield their own power?

But he must stop those thoughts-he was allowing his anger to catch hold of him. Tom clenched his hands into fists as his breathing slowly returned to normal. Dumbledore would certainly be able to tell if he'd been ill during the night, and consequently wouldn't let him go with Clara.

Considering how she supposedly _loved_ him, however, he knew that she would find some way to bring him with her, even if Dumbledore forbade it. He brought up her image in his mind: muted gray eyes, a untameable mess of dark hair that literally crackled with magic when she was upset...Tom let a wry smirk curve across his face. He regretted losing control of himself at St Mungo's; she had become more careful around him after that. He hated the way his chest seemed to tighten when he remembered her saying that he had used the Cruciatus Curse on her; it was unsettling. Tom rarely experienced regret, and he had never felt it when applied to another person before. Sighing, he pushed back his chair, the flame bending and twisting at the sudden rush of air, before neatly gathering up his papers into a pile with a lazy wave of his wand.

Although he had grudgingly admitted to himself that he cared for her over a year ago, he still scorned to examine his feelings. Sometimes, late at night when he found himself unable to sleep, he despised Clara for making him feel so _weak_ , so _vulnerable._ He'd willingly fallen into unconsciousness and let his guard down while she was wide awake feet away from him; she knew everything about his curse and was the only living thing able to stop an oncoming episode; and she was able to disarm him as swiftly as it he'd been hit with a Stunning Spell when she kissed him. Tom recalled the feeling of her lips dancing across his, the way it felt to wrap his hands around her waist and move his mouth across her jawline…he had never entertained such thoughts before he had met her, and part of him still despised her for distracting him from his goals.

When he had first accepted that he lusted after her, he had initally been consumed with possessing her to achieve ultimate control. But now…he had learned to ignore these urges-since they were no longer new to him, he had grown accustomed to them. The desire to possess her was still potent, but it was unlike before—it was no longer a gnawing need. He knew he would be able to do so when he wanted to, as it was laughably simple to make her bend to his will. Now, part of him wanted to do it for an entirely different reason…he remembered the time she had begun to unbutton his shirt at the orphanage, now wishing she hadn't pulled away before it could escalate any farther. But was he willing to give _himself_ to her just yet? Would he even _allow_ another human being to be that close to Tom Riddle both physically and mentally? He had used to scoff at the very idea, but now…the thought gave him an odd swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was almost a physical pain, but what an exquisite pain it was… Tom tugged on his tie, feeling heat rise around his neck. Even when there were seven floors between them, he could still picture her grinning as if she knew the effect she had on him, though he was careful to conceal it when they were together. He didn't want her to guess at the depth of his feelings for her…he didn't want to show more weakness, though he suspected that she already had seen glimpses of it multiple times.

To distract himself from the thoughts, he wrenched the images away for a topic that would not make him detest himself in the morning when he looked at her—and his mind surfaced with the facts about who she really was. Danielle Bailey was her birth name, but Tom much preferred Clara Ashford-it sounded much less common, less Muggle-like.

Despite his initial rage, he'd soon come to the conclusion that it made perfect sense that she was a time-traveler, and he was angry for not having considered it sooner. He despised the fact he could not perform proper Legilimency on her, either—he yearned to read her thoughts; not just for the information they held but to understand how her mind worked. It figured that the only girl to ever catch his attention and hold it wasn't even from his own time.

It was disappointing, certainly, that her parents were Mudbloods—he couldn't imagine anyone of Muggle heritage producing someone as… _unusual_ as her. But then he reminded himself that _his_ father had been a Muggle. No, he could overlook that fact. Although he never would have guessed that Stubbs was her distant relative...no wonder she was so close with him. Tom laughed under his breath as he remembered their kiss on New Year's Eve the year before. The realization must have been a nasty shock for her.

But what Tom was really concerned about was the future Clara had described. He had indeed become Lord Voldemort. It was satisfying to know that his plans had succeeded…but he had been thrwarted by a stupid little boy-the same age he was now. According to Clara, Tom was supposed to have already killed his father and made his first Horcrux at sixteen. This irked him, but he wasn't enraged by it. His other plan had surely cost him-he had been defeated by a mere _child_ -but now, armed with this knowledge, he had the power to make his plan even more foolproof.

This time, he would have Clara with him. She was extremely useful, even if she wasn't aware of it. Tom stood up and glanced over at his bed. He wasn't tired in the least, but he suspected he would have to get some sleep before the night ended. There was no point in going to the future in a weakened state.

He smirked to himself once more, and blew out the candle.

* * *

When the first pale streaks of dawn began to shine through the murky lake into the dormitory, Danielle rose out of bed. She quickly changed into the outfit Dumbledore had given her: since they would be in Muggle London, he'd suggested she wear a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. A grin spread across her face as she gazed at herself in the mirror—she'd missed the clothes of the future. After so many months of wearing a knee-length, pleated skirt, it was nice to wear trousers again.

Just as she prepared to leave, she paused at the door, listening to Alyssa's loud snores and wondering if she should say goodbye. But she ultimately decided against it; her friend would ask far too many questions about her new clothes and besides, they would only be in the future a few days if everything went according to plan.

Danielle levitated her suitcase and slipped out of the dormitory, but she was halfway to the Great Hall when she remembered she was wearing "future" clothes. Since she didn't want to answer any more questions that might arise, she instead headed downstairs to the kitchens where she could get some food without anyone having to see her.

After tickling the pear on the tapestry of the fruit bowl that Andy had told her about when she was in third year (being a Gryffindor, he'd discovered it the first night he'd arrived at Hogwarts. When Danielle was in Ravenclaw, she'd never gone down to the kitchens because she was always afraid she'd get caught. That had all changed when she'd been Sorted into Slytherin), she found herself in the enormous, open kitchen where dozens of house-elves scattered to and fro, carrying trays of food and cleaning supplies.

"What can I do for you today, madam?" a house-elf squeaked as it stopped in front of Danielle. She assumed it must be female, judging by the light pink pillowcase that adorned its scrawny body. Huge green eyes stared up at her.

"I would just like some breakfast, if you don't mind," Danielle said. The house-elf bowed before disappearing in a puff of smoke, reappearing seconds later with a plate laden with eggs and sausages. Danielle thanked the elf and was prepared to eat right there, but it immediately conjured a chair for her at the long wooden table.

Smiling gratefully, she sat down and dug into her breakfast. The elf hovered around her, anxious to make sure she was satisfied with her meal. "Do many students come down here?" Danielle asked between mouthfuls of sausage.

The elf shook her head. "There was a boy around here the other day asking funny questions, but no one else," it declared in a high-pitched voice.

Danielle asked who the boy was, but the elf refused to answer. She figured it must have been Skender snooping around the castle again.

When she finished her food, the elf Vanished her plate. Thanking her for the hundredth time, Danielle stood up to leave. It was nearly eight o'clock—she should be meeting Dumbledore in his office soon. "What's your name?" she asked the elf just as she left.

"Minnie," the elf said, bowing again. "Visit us anytime, madam!"

Danielle couldn't help but think of Minerva McGonagall and wondered if anyone had ever tried to call _her_ Minnie. She giggled in spite of herself as she imagined the look on the witch's face. "Well, I'll definitely be back here again," she promised, and left the kitchens.

* * *

Luckily, she didn't run into anyone-ghost or human-on her way up to Dumbledore's office. When she burst into the room with her suitcase, panting heavily, she saw Tom had already arrived (of course), standing as far away from Dumbledore as possible, who was humming merrily and appeared to be giving him a lecture on the benefits of Cockroach Clusters.

"Ah, Miss Ashford, you've arrived," Dumbledore said, stopping midway through his sentence describing how the candies aided digestion, and sweeping over to his desk. He suddenly became very serious, the smile fading from his face. "I trust you are ready?"

Danielle nodded firmly, and Tom nodded once beside her. "I am going to send you via Portkey to the entrance of Diagon Alley." He picked up a blank piece of parchment lying on the desk. "Once you arrive there, Miss Ashford is to set the Time-Turner to the thirty-first of July, 2050. The term at Hogwarts will not have begun yet, so if your search for Miss Taylor proves fruitless, you may skip ahead to September." He picked up a nondescript brown bag lying on the desk and handed it to Danielle. "Mr Riddle's potions are in there, as well as more antidotes for the time-traveler's curse if you require them."

"Thank you, sir," she said. Dumbledore handed them each a glass of bright purple liquid, which she assumed was the antidote she had been given the month before. She downed it in one, and was pleasantly surprised to find it had a musky, rich taste. After a moment of hesitation, Tom drank his as well.

"A word before you leave, if I may," Dumbledore interrupted.

"We'll find Georgina and bring her back here," Danielle said firmly.

"I don't suppose I need to tell you how dangerous this is, Miss Ashford," Dumbledore told her. "If you fail…you will not be the only ones to suffer. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and he turned to Tom next. "Mr Riddle, the most unlikely of situations can give you a better understanding of yourself," Dumbledore told him. "Remember that."

He looked irritated that the meaning wasn't explicitly clear, but there was no time for him to question Dumbledore further: the parchment in Dumbledore's hand had begun to glow. Danielle slung the bag over her shoulder as she reached for it. Tom grasped hold of the parchment as well, so that the tips of their fingers barely brushed each other.

Danielle mustered up a nervous grin. "I suppose you'll see us in a few minutes, Professor."

"Remember, a timeline must also have been created in which you never came back," Dumbledore warned. Now it was Danielle's turn to be confused, but before she could open her mouth she felt a sudden jerk in her stomach and was pulled backward into a whirling void.


	28. Dystopia

They landed hard on a smooth, cool surface. Danielle's first sight was of a cobblestone path inches from her face before she was pulled to her feet by Tom, who had predictably recovered his balance first. He pulled her into a shadowy corner of the alleyway they'd appeared in and she felt a sudden chill course through her body. He'd cast a Disillusionment Charm on them—of course, he would want to be as careful as possible.

Danielle reached into her pocket and pulled out the Time-Turner, looping the chain around their necks. She was standing so close to Tom she could feel his breath against her skin. With her heart suddenly kicking up its pace, she turned the dial so it read _31/07/2050._ Taking a deep breath, she glanced shyly up at Tom. "Ready?" she asked, trying to sound more confident than she really was.

"Are _you?_ " he countered lazily. "Perhaps Dumbledore put a Calming Draught somewhere in that bag."

Danielle glared at him, though it didn't come out as strongly as she'd intended. Clasping the dial between her thumb and forefinger, she yanked it back until she heard a sharp click. When the world began to spin, she quickly shut her eyes so she wouldn't feel nauseous at the thousands of colours and shapes whirling around her. The only thing that she could feel was Tom pressed against her, which set her very nerves on fire and helped her forget that she was currently traveling a hundred and six years into the future. How long were they spending in each year? Half a second? A quarter of a second? It certainly gave new meaning to the phrase "time flies".

Even though she'd been expecting it, the spinning stopped so abruptly that Danielle lost her balance. She staggered into Tom, feeling as if she'd taken one too many rides on a Muggle carousel.

"Did we make it?" she gasped, keeping a tight grip on his shoulders.

But she didn't need to wait for Tom's answer—she could see for herself already.

Diagon Alley was deserted. The shops were boarded up, with huge slabs of wood bolted across the doors. Shards of glass from the broken windows littered the ground. It held the eerie aura of a ghost town, abandoned for decades.

Tom took a step forward, meticulously assessing the situation. "Did Miss Taylor mention anything about Diagon Alley in her time?" he said to Danielle, his tone clipped.

"No. Nothing," she replied, trying not to betray her fear. They set off down the once-bustling street, wands aloft and their footsteps crunching on glass and debris.

Something was terribly wrong.

* * *

When they were forced to conclude there was absolutely no one in Diagon Alley, they ventured out into Muggle London. At first, Danielle wondered if someone was playing a cruel trick on them.

There were no glass skyscrapers so high they brushed the clouds; there were no sleek, expensive cars zooming by at breakneck speeds; and there weren't thousands of talking, laughing people in the streets. The buildings were hardly taller than they were in the forties, and there were no cars to be seen. In fact, there were no _people_ to be seen either.

Whatever Danielle had expected the future to be, it was not this.

She could feel Tom tense beside her, suspicion etched into every line of his face. "Let's try going to the Leaky Cauldron," she suggested, barely refraining from adding ' _If it's still around_.'

"There are Anti-Apparition wards placed around here," he muttered, and his eyes darkened. "We will have to walk."

Danielle's trepidation grew with every step as she took in the sights of an abandoned London. When they reached the pub twenty minutes later, dread was clawing at her stomach and tying it up into knots. "Tom, I'm scared," she confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush.

He glanced down at her, looking exasperated. "Are you going to wait outside, then?"

Merlin, he was in a bad mood. Embarrassed, but not wanting to be left alone, Danielle followed him inside without another word.

The Leaky Cauldron was a mess. It looked as it had been ransacked the night before, with random items scattered everywhere—littering the floor and stacked up in piles against the walls. At first, Danielle thought that it would be empty as well, but Tom cleared his throat and a very old, stooped woman hobbled up to them from around the bar. "Why are you here?" she croaked.

"We have come to request a room to stay in," Tom said politely, instantly reverting into his charming façade.

The woman glared at both of them in turn, as if appraising their worth. "Where have you come from? What are your names?"

"We are from Liverpool, but we traveled here to escape my family's anger—we are recently married, and they did not approve of us," Tom explained. "I am Henry Davies, and this is Ruth, my wife."

Danielle wasn't sure if she should be more surprised that he was using the same pseudonym they had the first time they were in Albania—how long ago that seemed!—or that he was pretending they were married. She remembered using the same story at a wizarding hotel in southern Scotland, and how irate he had been when _she'd_ said it.

The old witch, seemingly believing their story, nodded and held out her hand. Tom produced several Galleons out of nowhere and she gave him a key in return. Stunned, Danielle followed him upstairs into one of the bedrooms.

An old, dusty bed that looked as if it hadn't been used in years sat in the middle of the room. Cobwebs wound around the bedposts and Danielle swore she could see a large black spider scuttle into the wood at their approach. A dented silver mirror stood next to the bed and a small desk was placed in front of a grimy window.

Tom immediately shut the door behind her and began muttering spells under his breath, presumably setting up security measures. "Where did you get the money from?" Danielle demanded. "Forgive me if my memory is faulty, but I don't remember a wedding."

"Dumbledore gave us plenty of it," Tom explained when he was finished, stowing his wand back in his pocket. "It is dangerous for a young woman to travel on her own now. Marriage laws have been implemented."

" _Marriage laws?"_ Danielle gasped. She assumed he must have used Legilimency on the woman's mind to garner this new information. "What happened?"

"I do not know," Tom said as he began to pace restlessly across the floor. "This is not the time your friend left. Something occurred to drastically alter the future."

Danielle racked her brains for a possible explanation. "The only thing Georgina changed was saving me— _us—_ from dying. How could that possibly turn things into some sort of dystopia?"

Tom looked unnaturally frustrated, letting his emotions cross his face for once. He spun on his heel and went over to the window, yanking the curtains open and staring outside. Before Danielle could even ask him what he was doing, he whirled back around, this time with a determined expression. "Come with me," he ordered, and threw open the door again. She had no choice but to trot after him, following him back downstairs where the landlady was wiping up the table, though it appeared so filthy Danielle doubted her effort would produce visible results.

"Ma'am, I was just wondering if you could tell us how all this this happened," Tom began quietly, staring up at the old woman through his eyelashes. As usual, his ability to shift chameleon-like into different guises was disconcerting. "I was doing some reading before we left, and I was not aware that the city had fallen into such disrepair."

"Why, the war, o'course," the woman grumped, reminding Danielle inexplicably of Rubeus Hagrid. "After he took over, he destroyed everything. This was years ago, see…even before my time." Out of the corner of her eye, Danielle saw Tom's long fingers slip around the handle of his wand, and before she could intervene, the woman's eyes unfocused.

"Now, how did this all happen?" Tom asked in a low, persuasive voice.

"He conquered Britain," the witch said in a monotone. "He has ruled over Europe for the last century…"

"Who?"

"G—Grindelwald."

A small gasp escaped Danielle's mouth. Tom ignored her and continued, "What has he done?"

"He's taken over the world. Every single country on the planet is like this…he killed billions of Muggles and now only magical folk remain. The Muggles left are servants for pure-blood wizarding families."

"How did he do that?" Danielle choked.

"Why, everyone knows that. After he killed Albus Dumbledore in 1945, Britain fell and his reign eventually spread to the rest of the world. Nearly every Muggle, Muggle-born, and half-blood was slaughtered. Things have never been the same since then," she droned.

With another wave of his wand, Tom lifted the Confundus Charm and dragged Danielle back upstairs to their room.

Once they were safely inside she stood awkwardly next to the bed, unable to speak at first. So this was what would have happened if Grindelwald had defeated Dumbledore.

This was what it would have been like if Voldemort had won.

"I don't suppose you have any ideas about what we should do now?" Danielle asked, hesitantly glancing up at Tom.

"How about _you_ suggest something, Clara? After all, you are the one who got us into this whole bloody mess," he snarled. It was so rare he raised his voice that Danielle quieted, staring up at him in shock. He raked a hand through his hair in agitation and she realized with a start that he was worried.

Tom Riddle was worried, and that was never a good thing.

"I—I don't see how us staying alive could have made _this_ happen," she said, voice shaking. "Let's just find Georgina and go back to 1944, okay?"

Tom didn't answer. He turned away from her, gripping the sides of the desk and bowing his head, while Danielle sank down onto the bed, ignoring the dust that puffed up. What if he was right and the note she'd found _had_ been a trap? What if Georgina had been killed already?

A loud cough interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up to see that he was struggling to stay upright. Danielle jumped up and went over to him, placing a cautious hand on his arm. Of course…he hadn't taken his potion that day, and traveling through time must have been stressful on his body. "Tom?" she whispered, standing on her tiptoes to gently press her lips against his neck, where his pulse thrummed too quickly to be normal.

The curse seemed to be affecting him physically rather than mentally this time: his eyes weren't red, but he was coughing up blood and Danielle had to support him over to the bed. When she made sure he was still alive, she wrung out a cloth with cold water and placed it on his forehead. After he had coughed up what looked like a pint of blood and was visibly shaking (this terrified Danielle more than anything she'd seen yet) he went unconscious.

With nothing else to do except check periodically to make sure he was still breathing, she opened up the bag Dumbledore had given her and rifled through it. Of course, it was equipped with an Undetectable Extension Charm. She found Tom's potions, extra healing potions, Calming Draughts—Danielle wondered how Dumbledore had managed to sneak that many out of the hospital wing without Madam Cutteridge noticing—her Time-Turner, a pouch full of Galleons, and the piece of parchment that they'd used as a Portkey. Danielle frowned. The quill she'd used the last time—when she'd been sent back to 2011—had disappeared after its job was done. Surely it would be the same for this Portkey?

Danielle unrolled the parchment, her eyebrows shooting up when she saw that writing—more specifically, _her_ handwriting—had suddenly appeared on the once-blank paper:

_There is a reason you are going into the future to find Georgina instead of stopping her before she left. P.S. Don't let Tom see this. You'll thank me later!_

"What's going on?" Danielle asked aloud, feeling unsettled. Was this Dumbledore's doing? The parchment had most certainly been blank before.

* * *

Tom began to stir an hour later. Danielle was glaring at herself in the mirror (unfortunately, they appeared to have done away with the talking ones) and quickly looked over at him. His face was now so pale he could be mistaken for a vampire.

"Why are you looking at that?" he asked, nodding toward the parchment that she still clasped in both hands.

"Nothing," Danielle lied, quickly Vanishing the writing. It would surely take him no time to undo the spell, but if he hadn't seen the writing yet…

She could tell Tom was about to press the issue, but while she scrambled for an excuse he began coughing again. With a jolt of anxiety, Danielle noticed his hands were stained red when he took them away from his mouth.

"D'you think it's getting worse?" she asked quietly when the room was silent again.

He didn't look at her as he replied, "I am becoming immune to the potions. They are not as effective as they used to be."

"Are you sure there's nothing we can do?"

"Short of finding the diadem, no," Tom said sharply. "Do you think I have not researched this?"

Normally Danielle would snap back a retort, but instead she continued to stare at him, her eyes lighting up. " _Research…"_ she began thoughtfully.

* * *

After much persuading from Tom, the landlady finally relented and gave them directions to a library of sorts that was near the pub.

They had just gone outside when Danielle spotted a middle-aged couple walking down the street, both dressed in tattered robes and looking gloomy. They avoided Danielle's gaze as she and Tom walked past. Trailing behind them was an even older, stooped old man, carrying a pile of food. He was wearing a thin, ragged piece of cloth that reminded Danielle of the pillowcases house-elves wore. There was a crudely-drawn red X slashed across his chest. Danielle couldn't stop herself from staring at him in shock.

"He is a Muggle," Tom murmured in her ear. "They wear that to show their status."

Danielle felt a resounding sadness for the old man, turning around and watching him disappear from sight.

* * *

They saw nobody else on the streets or in the library. Of course, all documents that spoke ill of Grindelwald had been destroyed; there were only one-sided biographies and books praising him. But even with the extreme bias, they were still able to find crucial information about this new timeline. Tom cast another Disillusionment Charm over them, and they sat at a table in the very back of the library, absorbing as much information as they could.

Danielle's research unveiled many things, most of it disturbing. There was an estimated one million people left on the planet now, with one hundred thousand Muggles serving as servants, slaves, or playthings. After Grindelwald defeated Dumbledore, he had taken over the entire world and systematically slaughtered Muggles, Muggle-borns, and half-bloods. Of course, since there were still a small number of Muggles left, it was expected that there were some half-bloods who, as Tom pointed out, could never completely be eradicated. Grindelwald himself had died fifty years beforehand, but the world was still ruled under his iron fist. It was estimated that most wizards were half-bloods as a result of several generations of Muggles and pure-bloods mating, but from what Danielle could figure out no one had ever acknowledged that fact aloud. Hogwarts was now a school for practising the Dark Arts. Any Muggle in Europe attempting to flee, or any witch or wizard committing treason, was sent to a prison in Germany called Nurmengard. Muggles were allowed to breed, but it was rigidly controlled and only with permission from the government and their "owners", as the textbook called wizards and witches. There were also marriage restrictions in effect—every witch was expected to be married by the age of sixteen so they could produce as many children as possible. Their babies were tested at birth and were taken away if they didn't show any signs of magic.

It painted a horribly grim future. Danielle felt increasingly queasy as she continued to skim through the history books, reading the headlines of printed articles:

_After Grindelwald killed Dumbledore in 1945, he threw the body to a flock of dragons…_

_An estimated five million Muggles across the planet were disposed of every day for decades on end…they tried to put up a fight, but of course they were no match for Grindelwald's army…_

_Every wizard kept alive had to prove they were pure-blood…all half-bloods and Mudbloods were exterminated…_

What struck Danielle the most, however, were not the facts themselves, but Tom's reaction to them. She expected him to smirk, or look pleased—after all, this was the embodiment of what Voldemort stood for! This was the world that Voldemort would have created had Harry Potter not defeated him. But of course, neither Voldemort nor Harry existed in this timeline. This was a world in which Grindelwald had gained absolute power.

Danielle watched him furtively, but his expression only showed concentration as he read through the books, attempting to glean as much information as possible.

She finally had to put the paper she was reading down, feeling sick at heart. "I wish Dumbledore was here," she moaned. "He would be able to help."

"Perhaps you should stand in front of his grave and you will have a vision," Tom snapped.

" _Someone's_ cross today," Danielle retorted. "That time of the month, is it?"

" _Danielle_ ," he said, cold anger clouding his features, "You are not making things any easier."

She scowled at his deliberate use of her given name and gnashed her teeth together in annoyance. "The government keeps records of every person in the country," she groaned. "If someone asks who we are…"

"They will not," Tom replied. "We are not staying in one place long enough for anyone to become suspicious."

Danielle didn't completely agree with this idea, but seeing as how it was better than any _she'd_ had so far, she couldn't argue with him. Flipped open one of the books he'd just put down, her eyes landed on a picture of a Muggle child being beaten down to the ground by two wizards wearing the beige uniform of Grindelwald's army. The child was screaming in pain as what she assumed was the Cruciatus Curse lashed over his body.

"I'm going back to the Leaky Cauldron," she announced, slamming the book shut and standing up. The legs of her chair squeaked loudly in protest.

Tom, of course, smuggled the books out and followed her. As soon as the fresh air hit her cheeks, she began to feel slightly better. They would get through this somehow. They would find Georgina and bring her back to the past. All of this could be avoided.

The elderly landlady was nowhere to be seen once they reached the pub, and they made it up to their room without seeing another soul. Danielle figured they were the only guests at the inn.

Once the door was closed behind them, Tom kicked off his shoes, shrugged off his robes and hung them up on the rack affixed to the back of the door. He wore a white button-down shirt and a pair of dark slacks—more inconspicuous than Danielle's jeans and short-sleeved shirt.

She sat down on the bed and crossed her legs, half-staring out the rainy window and half-watching him. He undid his tie and slung it over his robes, pulling at his collar. Danielle felt a stab of disappointment when he stopped and blushed when she realized she'd been imagining him continuing.

"Are you going to make the bed wider?" she asked to distract herself, and turned even redder when she imagined trying to sleep with him just inches away from her.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her question. "The room is hardly large enough for that."

Now Danielle was sure the colour of her cheeks had bypassed pink and gone straight to crimson. She'd never shared a bed with him before. "Oh," she said weakly.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Tom asked, a spark of mischievousness alighting in his eyes. He crossed the room in one stride and sat down beside her. She moved to the side to give him more room, but ended up pushing over too far and falling down onto the bed instead.

"N—no," Danielle squeaked; but he merely smirked in response, trapping her wrists underneath his and pinning her down to the bed like he had when she was at St Mungo's. This time, though, he hovered over her, positioning his knees on either side of her hips but not quite touching her.

"I want to see that note you were reading," he murmured, his voice rough and husky against her ear. His mouth brushed against the side of her face, teasing her, before grazing down her neck and past her shoulder, all the way down her arm, where she felt his teeth press against the inside of her wrist. Danielle shivered and she felt the corners of his mouth turn up against her skin.

"Stop trying to…to seduce me!" she cried, but it didn't sound as convincing as she'd intended for it to be.

"I can seduce you all I want," he replied as he took his mouth off her wrist, but kept a tight grip on her hand. His head dipped lower again as he pressed his lips to her temple. "You are, after all, my _wife_."

Danielle made a half-strangled noise that was almost a whimper. Tom's smirk grew and he drew back from her slightly as she asked, "Why don't you just take it from me by force?"

"Would you not agree this is more enjoyable?" he responded, and laughed quietly. It was one of the only times Danielle had ever heard him _truly_ laugh, and she found herself grinning ear to ear despite the dangerous situation they were in.

She lifted her head up so she could kiss him enthusiastically, and for once he responded, pushing her back down onto the bed and covering her body with his. They had heated kisses before, but not like _this_. All traces of rational thought disappeared from Danielle's brain as she untwisted her arms from his grip and buried her hands in his hair, bringing him even closer. Now she could feel his tongue brushing across her lips like a snake testing its prey. She was just about to close her eyes when she saw that a familiar piece of parchment had somehow ended up in his left hand.

" _Tom_ ," she shrieked, tearing her mouth from his and staring at the incriminating parchment. "How did you get that?"

"You are distracted far too easily, Clara," he admonished her, running his thumb across her lips and chuckling at the indignant look on her face. Without making any move to sit up, he unfolded the parchment and read the note, still with an amused expression. His eyes slowly traveled back down to meet hers when he had finished reading. "Interesting," he said softly, his breath whispering across her skin.

"I don't remember writing it—I _swear_!" Danielle protested.

"I did not accuse you of anything," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. She exhaled in relief and he gave her one more long, lingering kiss before releasing his grip and standing up.

"Well," Danielle said when she'd recovered, sounding more than a little breathless, "At least the author was right about one thing—I _do_ want to thank them for not showing it to you right away."


	29. Escape

After what had just occurred between them, Danielle knew she would find it very difficult to sleep knowing that Tom was just inches away from her. As the evening wore on, the dark circles under his eyes became more prominent and he moved slower than usual. After they'd had a meager dinner consisting of the food Dumbledore had left them, Danielle was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion. She had to get used to this forbidding, harsh new world, and her body was still struggling to adjust to the massive distance they had just traveled. She prayed she wouldn't get the time-traveler's curse again; both of them ill would certainly result in disaster.

When the grandfather clock in the hall chimed midnight, Danielle stopped struggling to stay awake and crawled into the dusty bed, trying to control a sneezing fit, and rested her head on the pillow, watching Tom through half-closed eyes. He was sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, flipping through one of the books he had taken from the library. She must have eventually drifted off to sleep because the next time she had a conscious thought, the only source of light in the room was emanating from the tip of his wand. "G'to sleep, Tom," she slurred, her voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

He turned his head to look over at her, his eyes glimmering in the dim light like a cat's. Danielle never heard his response, since she had already fallen back asleep herself—her last thought being that she was either very brave, or very foolish, to sleep when Tom Riddle was sitting next to her.

She wasn't sure how it happened, but sometime during the night she woke for a second time to realize that she was pressed up against Tom, her head buried against his neck. He was asleep, his breathing shallow and slightly ragged. The lines of his face had smoothed, devoid of the calculating concentration he had while he was awake.

Danielle felt a dizzying wave of love crash over her and she softly pressed her lips to the side of his head. He didn't wake, but unconsciously reached out his arm and protectively drew her even closer to him. In a way, it was the closest they had even been to each other—both completely defenceless and open to an attack from the other, but choosing to overlook that. As she wondered if he had ever been this unguarded with anyone before, another, clearer thought crept into her mind: she couldn't let him die, or become Voldemort. She wouldn't be able to bear it if he was torn from her forever, whether physically or mentally.

She would save him. She _had_ to.

* * *

When Danielle sleepily opened her eyes the next morning, still feeling drained, her first realization was that the bed was painfully empty. She groaned into her pillow and lifted her head up, already knowing that her hair was a horrible mess.

Tom was nowhere to be seen. Danielle rolled over onto the other side of the bed—it was cold. Wherever he went, he had been gone for a while.

She sat up and slowly climbed out of bed. It was going to be another gloomy day; she could hear the rain pounding the thin roof. Reaching into her suitcase, she quickly changed into a warmer pair of robes and attempted to drag a brush through her hair, finally pulling it up into a bun when she was forced to accept it wouldn't comply no matter _what_ she did.

When Danielle finally looked halfway presentable, she went over to the window and stared down at the rainy, empty street, wondering where Tom had gone. She absentmindedly glanced over at the desk—with a jolt, her eyes landed on a piece of paper that she hadn't previously noticed. Frowning, Danielle reached over and unfolded it:

_Clara—_

_I will be back shortly. Do_ _not_ _leave the building under any circumstances._

It was unsigned, but then again, it didn't need to be. Danielle crumpled it up, scowling. It was just like Tom to leave without even considering her. He was probably trying to figure out some way to get past the Anti-Apparition wards.

Her stomach growled loudly, and she sighed, thinking of the last time she had eaten. Would the landlady have anything to eat? She deliberated whether or not to leave the room for a while, until she told herself that Tom probably wouldn't come back soon, wherever he had gone, and as long as she didn't leave the pub she would be fairly safe. She would never admit it aloud, but she wouldn't leave the building without him.

The landlady was sitting behind the bar when she went downstairs, in exactly the same position she'd been in when they'd first met her. "Good morning," Danielle said, mustering a smile, but the old woman didn't even react. "I don't suppose you'd have any…er…breakfast?" she asked, her smile faltering.

Without a word, the landlady reached behind the counter and pulled out a bowl of disgusting-looking gray mush. Danielle wasn't so sure about eating it, and she wasn't sure what it was—oatmeal?—or where it had come from, but she didn't want to refuse after she'd asked, and so gingerly picked up a fork and shoveled the goo into her mouth. It had no taste, but it filled her stomach and that was all she'd wanted.

The lady watched her eat with unblinking eyes. Danielle felt unsettled as she scooped up the last bit of slop and pushed it back to her. "Thank you," she said. In return, the woman gave her a wooden nod.

Feeling even more disconcerted, she went back upstairs to her room. There was nothing to do now except wait for Tom to return. She stretched out on the bed, wanting to go back to sleep but knowing she would be up all night if she slept now.

The time slowly dragged on until she heard the door creak open very softly. Danielle sat up and couldn't help but smile when Tom walked in. He was wearing a different set of robes than he had the day before. She wondered if he had gotten changed when she was asleep, and felt heat creep up into her cheeks at the thought. If only she had woken up a little bit sooner…

"Where _were_ you?" she demanded, to keep her mind off the sudden fantasy.

"Out," he said cryptically. It was only then that she realized his left fist was tightly closed. When Danielle gazed curiously at him, he opened his hand and a small golden object flew out, zooming around the room.

Danielle's head snapped around as she watched its progress—her eyes were hardly able to keep up with it. Her first thought was of a Snitch, but as the… _thing_ finally stopped, alighting on the bedpost, she realized she wasn't too far off the mark.

"A Golden Snidget?" Danielle gasped. It was a tiny bird, only slightly larger than a walnut, with beady red eyes and a disproportionate, rounded body. Its wings looked extremely delicate and whirred around dizzyingly even when it was still. As she watched in wonder, the creature made a loud chirping sound and flew onto her shoulder, where it proceeded to make a nest in her hair.

Tom's lips twitched, and Danielle could detect a note of pleasure in his expression. He looked the way he had when he'd showed her the hidden meadow at Hogwarts the year before. "You might as well have something to amuse yourself with," he said dryly.

She didn't even frown at the jab. "But they're supposed to be endangered! How did you get one?"

"They are not anymore," he explained patronizingly. "Were you not paying attention to what you were reading yesterday? Owning one is a symbol of wealth and power. It will take some suspicion away from us, should we be seen."

Danielle grinned happily, twisting her head and watching the creature's head droop as it fell asleep, making a soft snoring noise. "I think I'll name you…Ophelia," she said dreamily. "She was my owl in the future," she explained to Tom. He appeared unimpressed with her choice of name.

"So what are we going to do now?" Danielle asked, leaning against the bedframe. A stack of books had mysteriously appeared in Tom's arms. "Read all day again?"

"Do you have a better suggestion, Clara?" he asked stiffly. "We cannot afford to act impetuously."

"But Georgina could be _anywhere_!" Danielle insisted. "I believe that note—it was in my handwriting, and I'm sure she went back to 2050…"

"She could have gotten herself killed by now, in which case, our efforts would be for naught," Tom said. "I would not be surprised if she has."

"Don't underestimate people, Tom!" Danielle cried. She felt a sudden despair, sinking back onto the bed as a terrible thought occurred to her. "I—I'm not even supposed to be _alive_ in this timeline. My grandparents would have been killed by Grindelwald because they were Muggles. So…how am I still here?"

Tom stared at her for a long moment, considering. Finally he said, "Perhaps something did happen to ensure your existence."

"But what could that be?"

He didn't reply, which was his way of saying he had no idea.

* * *

To Danielle's annoyance, they did indeed spend the rest of the day reading. Tom was concentrating on the books, occasionally writing something down. Despite Danielle's relentless questioning, he wouldn't say what else he had been doing that morning. She was finally forced to quiet and study the books as well for clues that could help them figure out the new world and find Georgina.

The sky quickly darkened, and the steady pounding of rain on the roof still hadn't ceased. Danielle was midway through a textbook detailing the history of Hogwarts in the twenty-first century (apparently the Houses had been done away with, and there were only two streams taught in the school: those wishing to become "Guardians", the police that would persecute Muggles and make sure they weren't producing children with wizards; or "Helpers"—those being taught to mold the world into Grindelwald's vision) when her stomach growled in protest again. "I'm hungry," she complained. Without looking over at her, Tom reached into his bag and tossed a piece of food in her direction. "What am I, a Hippogriff?" she muttered as she caught it. "Can't the landlady make something for us?"

"You are more than welcome to eat that gruel," he said. "But I feel that you would find this preferable, so you should be thanking me."

Of course, Danielle would never admit it to him, but she _did_ find the sandwich rather more edible than her meal that morning. After her dinner, she took a shower in the bathroom across the hall and came back into their room to find Tom still studying. "Have you found anything?" she asked hopefully.

He shook his head, and she resisted the urge to growl in frustration. If he couldn't find anything, then they were out of luck.

She fell asleep that night with Tom still reading, as she'd predicted. When she woke up the next morning, she saw that he was still sitting at the desk, but he had ultimately given in to sleep, his head resting on his arms.

Danielle stretched and threw back the covers, glancing at her watch. It was just before six A.M.; she still had a while before she should get up. Wondering if she should move Tom to a more comfortable position, but ultimately deciding it served him right, she settled back into the bed.

However, she had just closed her eyes again when she heard the distant sound of footsteps on the floor below. Danielle cracked open one eye and strained to hear: there was the panicked voice of the landlady, and another, gruffer male voice. To her horror, she heard the stairs begin to creak.

Her instincts told her that this was no guest merely checking in. Danielle leapt out of bed and threw a Shield Charm at the door before shaking Tom's shoulders. "Wake up!" she begged him.

He was on his feet in an instant, wand already clutched in his hand. He didn't need her to explain what was going on: he cast another, more powerful spell at the door, so intense that she could hear a distant crack as if the frame had sealed itself to the wall, before turning to her. "Get your things together," he ordered, his normally authoritative tone still croaky with sleep. It was something Danielle would have laughed at had they not been in such a dire situation.

She didn't need to be told twice—as the footsteps stopped in front of the door, she saw that her belongings were already packed and sitting in front of her. Grabbing her suitcase in one hand and stuffing a sleepy Ophelia into her pocket with the other, she turned to Tom for guidance. He had opened the window and was throwing his luggage onto the rainy roof. "Go first," he ordered as there was a deep ringing sound from the door, almost like a gong. The intruder was trying to break their defences.

Danielle sprinted to the window and heaved herself out of it, trying not to slip on the slippery, soaking tiles as she tried to steady her footing. Tom wasn't far behind her, and he threw their suitcases unceremoniously on the ground below. He slid off the slanted roof and landed neatly on the street, looking resolute. After a moment's hesitation, Danielle followed suit. As soon as her feet hit the ground, Tom reached out to steady her and cast a Disillusionment Charm on both of them in the process.

"Where are we going?" she asked him, but he had already taken off down the street. Danielle heard a distant yell from the pub, and after a terrified backward glance she tore after him, running faster than she ever had in her life.


	30. In Hiding

They didn't stop running until they'd left the pub far behind them, emerging out into open fields. Just as Danielle was about to slow down, clutching her side, she burst out into untouched wilderness. It was a stark contrast to what she had just left: the city ended abruptly, with no sprawling suburbs to bridge the gap. It was like stepping into a completely different world.

Tom slowed as well, glancing back at her for the first time. Nobody appeared to be pursuing them, so Danielle figured they were safe for the time being. "Why were they coming after us?" she panted.

"The old woman knew there was something suspicious about us and alerted the government," Tom replied. He looked enraged. Danielle figured it was a mixture of being caught off-guard and having to flee like Muggles because they couldn't Apparate.

"So what are we going to do now?" she asked uncertainly as she examined their new surroundings. The heavy rain had given way to a light mist, and the rolling fields were bathed in an unearthly, eerie light.

" _I_ am going to figure out a plan," Tom answered condescendingly. "You are going to make sure we are not being followed."

"I can help!" Danielle argued. "You always underestimate me!"

He looked skeptical. "Fine, then, Clara. I daresay anything you come up with is sure to be astoundingly brilliant."

They'd begun walking again, determined to get as far away from the city as possible. The buildings of London had vanished entirely by the time Tom stopped again in a small valley surrounded by trees.

He began to pace a perimeter about fifty meters in length. Danielle sat down on the dewy ground and watched a shimmering golden shield take form around them as he put up barriers against the outside world. She felt as though she were in a gigantic, isolated bubble when he stepped back.

Danielle now felt safer, though no less worried. Tom raised his wand again and a large tent appeared in front of them, similar to the one they had spent a night in the previous year while traveling to Albania.

While Tom continued to employ defensive measures, Danielle slipped inside the tent. Of course, it was much larger on the inside than it appeared to be on the outside. There was a desk where Tom could study (obviously) and two beds.

Danielle grinned. "Scared to share a bed with me?" she asked when he followed her inside. "Is it too traumatizing for you?"

Tom sighed. "No, I just do not appreciate being kicked every ten seconds. You were also screaming the past two nights."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I…I scream?"

"Like a banshee," he replied. "I am surprised the others in your dormitory never mentioned it."

Danielle lapsed into silence, contemplating this new revelation. She didn't remember having any nightmares the previous nights…but then again, she hadn't taken any Calming Draughts either. She'd been taking the potions regularly back at Hogwarts…but had forgotten to when they'd arrived in the future. Well, at least Tom had managed to calm her down somehow. She had a feeling that her nightmares would be much worse if not for him, ironically.

* * *

They maintained an easy silence for the next few hours. Danielle offered to stand guard outside the tent while Tom continued to read. She sat cross-legged at the entrance, staring out over the patchwork fields and the line of trees in the distance, her mind teeming with questions.

Why didn't they just go back to 1944 and try to stop Georgina from leaving, rather than traveling a century into the future to find her? Wasn't there some other way for Dumbledore to defeat Grindelwald? And what was it about her and Tom surviving that changed the entire course of the future?

Danielle pulled the Time-Turner out from where it was hanging on the chain around her neck and stared menacingly at it. "Damned thing," she muttered. Idly, she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened to her if she'd never come back into the past. Who would she have become? Who would she have fallen in love with? Her parents used to joke that she would marry Teddy Lupin someday—but she had always known that would never happen. He was her brother's best friend, which was bad enough, but he was also two years younger than her, which had seemed like an eternity of difference to her at the time.

So, instead, she had fallen for a future Dark Lord with severe psychological problems who was seven decades older than her. She laughed once humorlessly. It was just her luck, wasn't it?

Danielle lay back on the grass and stared up at the stormy grey sky, watching the clouds drift by. When was the last the time she had thought of her family? Of course, they were always in the back of her mind…but she hadn't _really_ thought about them for ages. Andy would go absolutely mental if he knew what she was doing— _had_ done. But she couldn't think about her brother for too long…the image of him falling to the ground in a flash of green light, lifeless, would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Her parents were no less painful to remember. There was her father, who was almost exactly like Andy both in looks and personality, and her more serious mother. Everyone used to say that Andy was a carbon copy of Mr Bailey and Danielle was a miniature version of Mrs Bailey. What would William have been like if he had lived? Would he have been closer to Danielle or Andy?

And then there were her Ravenclaw friends—Tabitha, Heidi, Adrianna, and Fiona. As wonderful as Dylan, Alyssa, Alphard, and Georgina were, Danielle longed to have her original friends back. She closed her eyes and settled back into the grass, daydreaming of the future…her past.

"That is hardly keeping watch," an exasperated voice said from above her. Danielle opened her eyes to see Tom staring down at her, looking irritated. But where he might once have lectured her and refused to speak for the rest of the day, he merely sighed and went back inside the tent.

Sheepishly, she followed him, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. It had been rainy and cool before, but now it was humid and dry—the air was so heavy that she could feel her clothes sticking to her skin. The clouds had been aimlessly floating across the sky before, but now they rushed as if they were hurrying to get out of the path of the impending storm. Danielle could hear the low, ominous rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Have you figured out a plan?" she asked him, beginning to pace in worry around the tent.

Tom shook his head. "I do not suppose you have, either."

Danielle ignored his cutting remark and searched her mind for possible scenarios that might have occurred. "So…" she mused out loud. "If Georgina really did come back here, do you suppose she'd be at Hogwarts?"

"I would hope she is intelligent enough to realize that Hogwarts is closed during the summer," Tom answered.

"Well, we can cross that off our list, then," Danielle said. Tom's alert eyes watched her closely as she continued to speak, becoming steadily more agitated. "So, if she did come back to London, she would probably go to see her family…but I don't know where her family would _be_ …maybe we can look in the records? She would be pure-blood…"

"It is highly unlikely that she is completely pure-blooded," Tom pointed out. "She is liable to have at least one Muggle family member."

"Maybe she went to look for them," Danielle suggested, but at his raised eyebrow she sighed, raking her hands through her curls. "She would have to disguise herself…actually, maybe she _hasn't,_ since she had no idea that the future has changed!" Danielle suddenly stopped dead, staring at the side of the tent. "You said that the government has records of the entire wizarding population!" She spun around to face Tom, her eyes growing wide. She could tell by his expression that he was listening intently. "What if she got herself _caught_?"

"Then they would take her as a prisoner…" Tom said slowly, though his eyes had lit up. "They would not kill her right away. They would want to question her…"

Danielle nodded enthusiastically, feeling waves of excitement and horror in equal measures. "What if…what if Georgina's at _Nurmengard?_ "


	31. To Albania

Tom's eyes were narrowed as he listened, but they weren't focused on her anymore. "How would we get to Nurmengard, though?" Danielle asked, her voice growing higher-pitched as her agitation increased. "We can't even go to London…and if we can't Apparate…I don't even know where it _is_ in Germany—"

"But I do," Tom replied, half-smirking at her astonished look. "Really, Clara, your lack of faith in me is astounding. Unlike you, I _read_ the books."

Danielle scowled. "What about _your_ lack of faith in _me_? You never listen to anything I say!"

"If I did not place any semblance of trust in you, Clara, you would be dead by now," Tom said harshly. When she flinched, he sighed in exasperation and added sarcastically, "Do you want a contract written in blood?"

"No—but you have to admit it would be entertaining," Danielle shot back. "Merlin, Tom, I just wish I knew where I stood with you. One day you act halfway _normal_ , and the next you barely talk to me. I wish you weren't so—"

Before she could finish her sentence, he'd stood up and yanked her toward him. Tom bowed his head as if he was going to kiss her, but instead he murmured, his breath ghosting across her lips, "It is _absurd_ that you still claim not to know what I think about you after all this time."

"Shush," Danielle scowled, reaching up to place a finger on his lips. "I wasn't finished talking."

But Tom gently kissed her finger in response, smiling triumphantly as her breathing stuttered. He twined his fingers around hers and pushed them down to her sides, moving his face to her lips, where his mouth brushed against hers so softly she could barely feel it. "You are _far_ too predictable," he mocked between kisses.

"There you go, insulting me again," Danielle whispered. "And you wonder why I'm confused by you."

Tom's eyes darkened at her words, and he kissed her with such a ferocity her mind was wiped clean of all coherent thought. Danielle pulled her hands out of his and tangled them in his neatly combed hair, trying to make it as messy as possible. In return, he pushed her backward into the wall, pressing so hard against her she could feel his heart pounding through his robes. When her lungs began to scream for air, Tom moved his mouth to her jawline, his cool fingers wrapping around the chain of the Time-Turner. His head drew back slightly as he examined it. Danielle noticed with a vindictive pleasure that his face was slightly flushed.

"Going to rip it off my neck, are you?" she asked, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

Tom laughed softly. "I quite like it on you," he admitted, letting the hourglass fall back to her neck.

Danielle couldn't hide her surprise. "Really? I thought you would say it was tasteless…"

"It brought me you, did it not?" he asked, and she felt his teeth gently graze her ear.

Danielle pulled his face back to hers and shoved him forward, back onto one of the beds. Tom could easily have stood his ground, but he seemed to be humouring her for the moment, kissing her so deeply she finally gasped, "Can't—breathe!"

"You asked for it, Clara," Tom replied in faux disappointment. To her delight, his own breathing seemed to be slightly faster than usual.

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, and shoved him to the side. He rolled over, but as he did he grabbed her hands and pulled her down on top of him, laughing out loud at the shocked expression on her face. She had hardly ever seen Tom laugh before—smirk, sure, but this—a true smile, was even rarer than her not falling asleep in History of Magic. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and kissed him again. His hands rested lightly on her hips and in a sudden burst of daring, Danielle undid the top button on his shirt.

They had only gotten this far once before—at the orphanage the previous summer—but they'd both frozen in embarrassment and pulled away almost immediately. This time, however, Tom grasped her wrist and pulled it away almost lazily. His face wasn't an impassive mask like before; instead, it held a touch of mocking amusement. "What?" Danielle asked, unable to hide her displeasure. "Don't tell me you weren't expecting that."

"I was," he agreed lightly, reaching up to pull her hair back from her face. "As… _tempting_ as that was, it would not have been a wise idea to continue."

"Why not?" Danielle demanded, feeling suddenly ridiculous. She felt heat rise to her cheeks and hoped he wouldn't notice.

"You and I both know where it would have gone," Tom said reasonably. In one graceful movement, he sat up and pushed her off him, setting her in an upright position on the bed while he stood up. "We do not have time for that now. If your theory about Miss Taylor is true, we need to get to Germany as soon as possible."

Danielle watched him walk to the entrance of the tent, presumably to make sure their defensive shield was still holding up. She felt dizzy and her head was still pounding with blood. "Going to go drench yourself with cold water?" she called after him, trying to keep her tone lighthearted.

Tom gave her a disparaging look before disappearing outside. Danielle lay back on the bed and giggled out loud.

* * *

The humidity finally broke that night, and the heavens unleashed an absolute torrent of rain. It soon became impossible for Danielle to fall asleep—she would jolt awake at every clap of thunder. Midsummer storms were always the worst ones.

After much heated discussion, they had come to a tentative agreement to stay out of sight as much as possible. The following day, Tom would sneak into the city to retrieve some more food and drink, as they were running woefully low on supplies, while Danielle would stay behind and guard the tent. According to Tom's research, there was a Hippogriff reserve in the direction they were heading (the creatures had been hunted to near extinction in the past century, to the extent that special sanctuaries had been set up around the world). On his way back, Tom would try to steal a Hippogriff from the reserve. They would fly to Albania first and search for the diadem before heading to Germany to try and rescue Georgina.

The more Danielle thought about it, the more she was convinced her idea was right. Georgina had most likely come to the future, stumbled out into the streets unaware and had been caught. Of course, she would have had no idea what was happening. Since she wouldn't have any adequate answers for the authorities, she would have been taken to Nurmengard.

Danielle rolled over in bed and stared through the semi-darkness at Tom's silhouette. The only light in the tent was a small, flickering candle, placed on the table that separated their beds. She could just see his outline, his chest softly rising and falling as he slept. The first time she'd ever seen him asleep was during the air-raid in London a year and half ago. She'd only known him for three months then…how different things were now!

She couldn't help but smile as she thought about their heated kiss earlier that day. It was very satisfying to know she could affect him like that. Moments like those, when he displayed a touch of humanity, (albeit unwillingly) delighted her. Perhaps that meant he was another step farther removed from Voldemort, Danielle thought as she finally fell into a light slumber.

* * *

She was awakened the next morning by a loud buzzing sound, as if a swarm of bees had taken up nest in the tent. Danielle, still half-unconscious, swatted at whatever was making the noise, but when it continued she blearily opened her eyes to see Ophelia flying right above her head.

She groaned and stuffed the pillow over her face, but the nudging at her ear told her that the Snidget wasn't going to give up so easily. Danielle finally lifted the pillow away and raised her eyebrow at the tiny bird. "What?" she asked it. "Are you hungry?"

The bird chirped and alighted on her nose, its beady red eyes staring down at her. Danielle reluctantly sat up and held out her palm so Ophelia could hop down onto it.

Tom was, of course, already awake. He'd put on his traveling cloak and had his wand ready in his hand. "Are you leaving already?" Danielle asked as she slowly got to her feet.

"The earlier I do, the less chance I have of being caught," he said evenly. "I should be back within the hour."

Yawning hugely, Danielle nodded and watched him leave, the entrance of the tent flapping in the breeze generated by his passing. When he had disappeared, she rooted in her bag for the food Dumbledore had given them. It was a good thing he was going to get some more, since they were almost out.

While she chewed on a bagel and threw Ophelia a small piece, she sat back on her heels and thought about their current situation. She realized, with a jolt, that perhaps Tom _did_ care for her more than she believed. After all, he had absolutely no reason to stay with her. He could easily head off to Albania himself, leaving her behind. But he didn't—at least, not _yet_. He trusted her enough to fall asleep when she was feet from him, able to fire a curse at his head if she so pleased. Of course, he had been that way during the air-raid, but he hadn't _meant_ to fall asleep then. Now he was choosing to be completely susceptible in front of her.

Was it love? Danielle still doubted Tom Riddle could ever fall in love, but it was certainly better than hatred, whatever this was.

* * *

When he reappeared half an hour later, Danielle jumped to her feet. "How did it go?" she asked urgently. Wordlessly, he shook the contents out of the bag and dozens of food items poured out onto the table. Danielle felt a wave of relief; at least she could cross 'starving to death' off the checklist of things that could happen to them.

"For such a tyrannical regime, their security is _hardly_ effective," Tom said dismissively. "I might as well have gone in undisguised."

"What about the Hippogriff?" Danielle asked.

"It is outside." Tom began to disassemble the tent while Danielle ventured out to see a huge, gray animal tethered to a nearby tree. It clawed at the ground when it saw her, making a loud screeching noise. Gulping, she slowly shuffled toward it, not breaking eye contact. She could sense Tom standing behind her—probably smirking in that derisive way he always did.

When she reached the Hippogriff, Danielle sank to the ground in a bow, her eyes watering as she struggled not to blink. She hoped that her "O" in her Care of Magical Creatures O.W.L. would finally come in handy.

After waiting on tenterhooks for what seemed like an eternity, the beast finally dipped its head in an answering bow. Danielle straightened up and reached out her hand to pat its beak. "Hopefully you'll be easier to ride on than a Thestral," she mused. "Does he have a name?" she called back to Tom. Their tent had disappeared and she could see their protective shield fade into nothingness as he lifted the defensive measures.

"No, and I do not believe he will understand if you do choose to name him," Tom said acerbically. "I just pray that it is a step up from 'Ebony' or 'Ginger'."

"Hey, those were good names!" Danielle protested.

He ignored her response. Moving with ease, as if he had done it hundreds of times before, he lifted himself up onto the Hippogriff's back, resting just behind its wings. Danielle tried to copy him, but ended up nearly slipping off the creature. Tom grabbed her arm before she could fall and this time she managed to keep her balance as she settled behind him. When he was confident she wasn't about to fall off, Tom pointed his wand at the rope tying them to the tree and it snapped in two. The Hippogriff squawked piercingly, ecstatic at being released, and began to gallop across the field. Danielle shrieked and wrapped her arms as firmly as she could around Tom's waist, not caring if she was crushing him. She'd been wrong: this was _much_ worsethan a Thestral. Squeezing her eyes shut, she buried her face in Tom's shoulder as she felt the Hippogriff spread its wings and lift up off the ground. When they had stopped climbing, she gingerly opened up one eye and watched the patchwork fields disappear under a bed of clouds.

"How long will it take us to get to Albania?" she yelled in Tom's ear.

"Three hours, give or take," he told her. The Hippogriff turned sharply right, and in the distance she caught sight of the vast azure expanse of the ocean spread out before them. Danielle waited until they were safely over water before feeling her heart rate return to normal. At least if she fell now, she wouldn't splatter all over the ground like she would have if they'd been flying over land. To pass the time, she decided to think up names for the Hippogriff—she might as well have something to distract herself from her anxious thoughts.

* * *

She'd lost track of how many hours had passed when Fleetwing (the name she'd finally decided on) took a sudden turn downward, angling toward the ground. Danielle's hands had gone numb a long time ago, and she was sure her legs were wrapped so closely around the beast that she couldn't fall off even if she wanted to.

The clouds gradually got thinner and thinner until she could see land again. They were flying along a shoreline, the waves lapping against sharp rocks and half-formed cliffs. A thick forest spread out along the edge of the beach.

Danielle had never felt so grateful when Fleetwing's claws touched ground. She slid off right away, somehow managing to land on her feet. Alas, her momentary show of grace wasn't to last long: her legs soon collapsed under her and she unceremoniously clambered to her feet again, pretending it hadn't happened.

Tom tied a rope around the Hippogriff's neck and led him over to the treeline. Danielle trotted after him. "How far are we from Tirana?" she asked.

"We are _in_ Tirana," Tom replied. "However, it does not appear to exist anymore."

She stared around their bare surroundings and felt a wave of trepidation. "So what are we going to do?"

"The diadem should be around here," he replied. "I did not search in this particular area when I was here last time."

Privately, Danielle felt that if Tirana no longer existed, then it was probably logical that the diadem was long gone as well, but she didn't mention these thoughts to Tom. He would come to reason soon enough…she hoped.


	32. Last Hope

Tom began his search for the diadem as soon as they entered the forest, while Danielle kept an eye on Fleetwing, who spent an hour hunting for rats before going to sleep under a canopy of thick leaves.

When she could no longer use the Hippogriff as an excuse, Danielle half-heartedly tried to help Tom as well, but gave up after she found herself laughing at the sheer stupidity of it all. Tom was using magic, obviously, but it seemed to her the results were hardly more fruitful than if he'd been looking in every hollow tree. She finally sat down on the ground next to Fleetwing, leaning against the slumbering beast's side while watching Tom turn in circles and mutter spells in quick succession under his breath.

"You know, I think I saw a flash of gold just over there," Danielle teased.

Tom gave her a withering glare. "You are not helping, Clara."

"You don't seem to be making much progress yourself," she started to say, but ended up biting her tongue. The last thing she wanted was to make him angry when they were as far removed from civilization as they currently were—if the current society could be even deemed "civilized".

Eventually she decided to humour him some more, and staggered to her feet to look through a grove of trees she hadn't previously searched. " _Accio Ravenclaw's diadem!_ " she called jokingly, laughing to herself. Well, at least she couldn't say she hadn't tried.

But Danielle had just as soon moved to another tree when something hit her sharply on the shoulder. "Bloody hell," she swore, rubbing the sore spot while she glanced down at the ground to see what had smacked her.

Kicking aside a pile of dirt, she was about to turn away when her eyes landed on something shiny. Danielle bent to retrieve it, and nearly dropped it when she realized what it was.

"Tom," she called, shock colouring her tone. In her hand was a delicate gold tiara. A glittering sapphire was embedded in the crown, and the top was carved into the bust of an eagle. The inscription _Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_ was engraved in the gold surrounding the jewel.

Tom reached out one hand and plucked the tiara from her, staring at it with unabashed greed. Danielle took a nervous step backward; she didn't miss the brief glint of red in his eyes.

He turned the diadem around in his long fingers, handling it carefully, as if it would break any moment. She watched him with bated breath, unsure whether to look for any physical changes in him.

Tom gave a sudden jerk, and, startled, Danielle leapt back as an expression of utmost rage crossed his face.

"It is a copy," he snarled, and hurled the diadem against the tree. It didn't snap in two, but merely fell back to the ground and bounced onto Fleetwing's leg. The Hippogriff opened one large eye and carelessly kicked the object away before falling back asleep.

"A fake? H—how do you know?" stuttered Danielle. She continued to back away; disliking the red sheen that was beginning to cloud his irises.

"I would be able to sense the ancient magic in the real diadem. This is as fabricated as if a Muggle had made it," Tom spat. "Grindelwald must have taken it long ago and replaced it with this."

"Are you sure?" Danielle asked dubiously, though the question was more of a distraction than anything else.

Tom glanced up at her, his eyes now a clear crimson. "Leave, Clara," he ordered before reaching out a hand to steady himself on the nearest tree.

Danielle had enough experience with his curse so that she didn't need to be told twice: she turned and fled, but not before seeing Tom sink to the ground in an undeniable show of weakness.

She knew that he was telling her to run not just for her safety, but also so that she wouldn't see him half-dead, struggling to breathe. It seemed ridiculous for him to still think that—especially when she'd seen him close to death plenty of times—but the only thing Tom had left now was his pride.

Danielle wandered the forest until she came to the shoreline again. She walked along the beach and stared out at the waves gently lapping the shore. The mountains loomed around the lake, and if it hadn't been for the cloudless blue sky she could pretend she was back at Hogwarts. In a moment of rashness, she kicked off her shoes and, taking a deep breath, dove into the water.

She hadn't gone swimming in a very long time, and found it very relaxing, only coming up for air when her lungs began to burn. After a vigorous swim around the lake, she finally settled for floating on her back, staring up at the sky.

The idea that her life would turn out like this had never once occurred to her. Like most girls, she had been attracted to the mysterious and the alluringly forbidden. But once she had become involved and experienced the darkness firsthand, it had lost all its appeal. Now she wanted nothing more than to go back into the light. But she couldn't. She should have run away the second she'd first looked into Tom's eyes. The devil was supposed to be beautiful, wasn't he?

To her credit, though, Danielle could never have known how her future would unfold. She could never have known who Tom Riddle was or how entangled she would become with him. And now…what was she supposed to do?

The fact that the diadem she'd found was a fake was sure to enrage Tom, though Danielle had always felt that it would be impossible to find it in this time. If Grindelwald had it back in the nineteen-forties, then he, or his closest followers, would certainly have possession of it now.

Growling in frustration, Danielle dove back under the water, opening her eyes to the shimmering, aquatic world around her. She clasped a hand over her Time-Turner as a very foolish thought crossed her mind.

What if she went back to 1944 and asked Dumbledore for help? Tom would never know she had gone…and she would be back within seconds of leaving…

Gasping for breath, Danielle swam back up the surface and pulled the soaking wet strands of hair out of her face. She stared back at the forest edge, deliberating. Dumbledore could provide them with valuable help…but what if he didn't know what to do? What if something went wrong and she was unable to come back to the future?

Danielle hesitated, holding out the Time-Turner in front of her and watching the water pool in her hand. Just as she reached out her thumb to flick the date back, she caught movement in the trees in front of her. Tom was looking out at her.

Sighing, she let the hourglass fall back against her throat and swam back to shore, hoping that he had regained control of himself. An attack from him and she might _have_ to go back to the past.

But his eyes were a deep blue again when she reached him. He looked a little paler than usual, but not nearly as bad as he had at the Leaky Cauldron. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"Very much, thank you," Danielle replied sarcastically. She noticed that he was carrying the fake diadem in his hand. "So what are we going to do now?"

"We will search for another few days before heading to Germany," Tom answered. "I need to know it is not here beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"What if Grindelwald destroyed it?" Danielle asked. "If it gives the wearer great intelligence and healing powers, he would want to make sure it didn't fall into the wrong hands. Maybe it's buried with him."

"We will search around Nurmengard," Tom agreed. He turned around and began to head back into the forest. Danielle followed him, casting a longing look back at the lake as she did.

They came to a halt next to Fleetwing and Tom began to set up their tent again. While he worked, Danielle perched on a tree branch and surveyed the area. They were far removed from civilization and Grindelwald's awful regime here. She wondered how similar Voldemort's reign would have been if he had won the Second Wizarding War and Harry Potter hadn't stopped him. But at least he didn't exist in this timeline…come to think of it, Harry wouldn't exist either. The thought gave Danielle a constricted, painful feeling in her chest.

"Tom," she said suddenly. "You're not…thinking of making a Horcrux, are you?"

"No," he answered, and Danielle sighed in relief. "I do not have the information required to create one." He sounded almost frustrated, and she refrained from asking him whether he would, if he had the chance. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

A bird flying overheard cawed loudly, and, startled, Danielle tumbled out of the tree, falling hard on the ground. She saw Tom smirking at her clumsiness, and blushed furiously. As she got to her feet, slightly winded, she saw that she had unearthed a pile of dirt. Kicking it over with her foot, she was astonished to see a piece of parchment hidden in its depths. It was covered with spidery, elegant writing, the kind of calligraphy children weren't taught anymore, and she knew it must be centuries old but had been protected with some sort of anti-decaying charm. Danielle picked it up and read over the script:

_My darling Helena,_

_I beseech you to listen to me, as this could save both of our lives. I miss you terribly and I feel as though I cannot breathe properly without you here._

_It has been scarcely a year since you left, but I feel your absence as if it has been a lifetime. Our child must have been born by now. I hope you are taking good care of it, even if it is destined to die a brutal death before it has a chance to truly live._

_I am ill, Helena. The curse my father placed on me is draining my strength, and I fear I do not have much time left. Full days pass where I have no memory of what transpired, and those around me are beginning to become afraid. I need you back here to help me through this. I do not even mind dying, as long as you stay by my side throughout everything._

_I love you, I love you. Please come back._

_Forever yours,_

_Sefton Slytherin_

"The Bloody Baron's name is Sefton?" Danielle grinned to herself. She called Tom over, and he was beside her within seconds. She handed the paper to him wordlessly, and he read it through carefully. "It must be one of the letters that the Bloody Baron sent to Helena Ravenclaw when he was trying to win her back," she mused aloud. "But, of course, Helena didn't accept him…" Danielle felt a wave of dislike for the Grey Lady. Yes, she had run away because she didn't want Sefton to kill their unborn child…but she had stolen her mother's diadem. So Tom, being their last remaining descendant (aside from Morfin Gaunt), was technically their heir of Ravenclaw as well as Slytherin. The thought made Danielle grin. It was sure to raise his already inflated opinion of himself to astronomical proportions.

"Are there any more?" she asked, kneeling in front of the pile of dirt and beginning to scrape away at it with her hands. Tom used a more efficient method: he merely pointed his wand and another piece of paper flew into his hands.

The writing on this one was different: neater and smaller. Danielle guessed it was a woman's writing:

_Sefton,_

_As you know, I cannot go back to you when you are prepared to murder our child. You mentioned that you are mentally unstable with whatever curse your father has placed on you; therefore, it would be foolish for me to accept you. I have, however, placed a powerful healing charm on the diadem. That combined with its inherent magic should, I believe, stop the curse. I am thinking of sending it back to my mother, whom I do not want to see at this point. I do not trust she will give it to you, so you will have to figure out some way of obtaining it yourself._

_Do not take this as a rejection. I do still love you, and know that when you have come to your senses I will be more than prepared to introduce you to our son._

_Helena_

Danielle gasped at this new revelation, her respect for the Grey Lady increasing tenfold. So _she_ had placed the healing powers on the diadem to aid her husband…but she had never sent it to him. Why not?

Helena had told her that Rowena Ravenclaw fell very ill and then sent Sefton to find her…but, driven mad by the curse, he had killed her when she refused before killing himself…but Helena should have understood, Danielle thought. She should have known he wasn't in his right mind…glancing over at Tom, she pondered her own choices. If Tom killed her (which was a very real possibility) and she came back as a ghost to haunt him, would she ever forgive him? Danielle knew that she would eventually—but perhaps that was because she understood his curse; understood how debilitating it was. Helena hadn't. Maybe if she had questioned Sefton about it, she would be more sympathetic. But, on the other hand, Sefton had wanted to kill their son out of compassion. Danielle had obviously never had children, so she couldn't understand Helena's rage at Sefton's plan.

She quietly retreated back into the tent, leaving Tom to read over the letter. All she could do was hope against hope that, somehow, the diadem would be found and he would be cured.

But what was even more frightening than _not_ finding it was the very high probability that even if he _was_ cured, he wouldn't change at all.


	33. Nightmare

_She was trapped in a freezing, pitch-black space. Trying not to betray her fear, she searched frantically for her wand, but her hands came up empty. The darkness continued to cloud around her no matter how far she ran. She had no idea if she was inside or outside. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she vaguely registered the notion that this must be what it was like to be both blind and deaf._

_She fell to her knees and began to crawl forward in hopes she would find her wand on the ground, but she could sense that something had begun to move around her. Letting out a half-strangled scream, she tried to stand, but some invisible force pushed her back down to her hands and knees. Even without the aid of sight or sound, she knew that she was surrounded._

_Something slimy closed around her wrist, and she automatically jumped backward, this time landing on a hard surface. She was completely paralyzed, lying flat on her back and staring blankly upward._

_There came a sudden shriek from beside her, and sound rushed back into her ears at once. "Danielle!" a woman was screaming, and her stomach lurched in terror as she recognized her mother's voice. "Why did you do it?"_

" _You betrayed us," her father's voice echoed from the other side. She was unable to do anything except lie motionless, forced to hear the yells of her family. "He killed us…he ruined our lives forever…"_

" _You're not my sister anymore," came the scathing voice of Andy. "I wish you had died and William had lived. He wouldn't switch sides like this."_

" _Switch sides?" she managed to gasp. "I haven't—what do you mean—"_

_Light flooded into the room, and she could suddenly move again. She shot up and just as quickly recoiled from the sight: she was imprisoned in what appeared to be the Shrieking Shack. She had been lying on a long, wooden table that stretched the length of the room. The bloody, mangled bodies of her parents and younger brother were splayed across the floor. They were sitting up and looking right at her, their eyes unnaturally red. They appeared cold, dead; almost zombie-like, as if some cruel puppeteer was controlling their movements._

" _Poor, poor Danielle," a high, cruel voice mocked—the voice of Voldemort. A figure cloaked in black materialized in the centre of the room. The only visible part of his face was a pair of crimson eyes shining out from beneath his hood. She thought inexplicably of the Metusa she had faced in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "You threw away your past and family for him. Even Dumbledore scorns you. Your friends would never speak to you again if they knew who you really were."_

" _Why are you doing this?" she croaked, jumping off the table and desperately trying to search for an exit. "I—I love you guys too! I haven't forgotten!"_

_But the scorn in her family's eyes only seemed to intensify at her words. Andy got to his feet with rigid, jerky movements and began to walk toward her, his eyes utterly inhuman. Danielle screamed and ran to the corner, trying to Disapparate, but nothing happened._

" _He doesn't care for you," Voldemort sneered, watching her hopeless attempt to escape, and she knew he wasn't talking about Andy. "To him, you are just as worthless as everybody else."_

" _Then why does he act differently toward me?" Danielle challenged. "Tom isn't—isn't_ you _yet! I can stop him—"_

_Voldemort laughed maliciously. "I am his past, present, and future, Danielle Bailey. You have always been destined to die by his hand."_

_By now, Andy had crossed the room and had almost reached her. Danielle screamed again. Thrashing and flailing wildly, she ducked down and tried to cover her head, but it was no use—_

"CLARA!"

Her eyes flew open to see Tom staring down at her with an intensely frustrated glare beginning to form in his eyes. Danielle wildly leapt off the bed, trying to get away from him, but her legs were still weak from sleep and she fell down, Tom catching her before her head smacked the floor.

"What is the matter with you?" he accused, pushing her none too gently back on the bed. "You have been screaming uncontrollably for the past ten minutes."

 _It was just a dream,_ she told herself firmly. _It didn't happen._ "I had a nightmare," she said lamely.

"And?" he asked in the tone that stated he wasn't going to let the matter rest until he'd gotten a satisfactory answer.

"It was…just my family," she answered dully. "They were…well, they blamed me."

"For what?"

"Their deaths." Danielle rubbed her temples as she felt an agonizing headache burst into her skull, sending waves of pain shooting through her head.

There was no answer from Tom. She soon fell back onto the pillow and was asleep within seconds.

* * *

Thankfully, Danielle didn't dream again, but she woke up feeling, if possible, even worse. Her head still pounded painfully and she felt very cold. Shivering, she tried to pull the blankets around her, but her pillow was covered in sweat.

"Tom?" she called, her voice scratchy and raw. "I think I'm sick."

Cracking open her right eye, she watched him stand up and walk over to her. He inspected her flushed appearance before leaning over and pressing his lips to her forehead. "You have a fever," he said matter-of-factly, smoothing back a tendril of hair from her cheek.

Danielle would have been pleased about the gesture if she hadn't felt so ill. "Did Dumbledore give us any Pepper-Up Potion?" she croaked. Tom reached into her bag and soon unearthed a small brown vial. Danielle snatched it from his hands, drinking it in one. She instantly felt better, though still shaky and exhausted.

"What were you planning on doing today?" she asked.

"I was going to search for the diadem," Tom replied, looking as if he was refraining from rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Clara, do I have to spell everything out for you?"

"But I wanted to help you," she explained, managing a weak grin.

"It would be more helpful if you stayed here," Tom said acerbically, pulling his cloak over his shoulders. "That way I do not have to constantly check that you have not gotten yourself killed." Giving her a smug smirk, he left the tent before she could retort.

* * *

Danielle fell back into fever dreams for the remainder of the day, only waking when she heard his soft footsteps re-enter the tent. She knew straight away that he hadn't been successful: his hands were empty and there was a controlled anger behind his eyes.

"I really don't think the diadem is around here, Tom," she said hesitantly. "You would have found it by now if it was..."

"I have considered that," he said briskly as he sat down on his bed. "Now, I am certain that it has been stolen."

They lapsed into an uneasy silence until Danielle suddenly asked, "Can I sleep on your bed tonight?" He gave her an inquiring look, and she clarified with "I…I don't have nightmares when you're here."

Tom didn't give any signs of affirmation, but he didn't refuse either, so Danielle climbed out of her bed with difficulty, her limbs feeling heavy and her head spinning crazily, stumbling across the tent before crawling into his bed. "I hope I don't get you sick," she mumbled. They were incredibly close now; Tom had twisted his upper body around so that he was facing her.

"I doubt that, Clara." She tiredly glanced up at him, feeling a sense of relief that he was finally smiled. Danielle kissed his jaw before propping herself up on one elbow so she could kiss his lips. Tom allowed the kiss to deepen for a moment before placing his hands on her waist and pulling away.

"Goodnight," Danielle whispered to him, breathing, "I love you," before falling into the most contented sleep she'd experienced in months.

* * *

She wasn't the least bit surprised to discover that he was already gone when she awoke. She still felt sluggish and had a hacking cough, but at least she wasn't feeling so faint.

Since today was the day they were supposed to leave for Germany, Danielle figured he was looking for the diadem one last time. She idly wondered what he found more frustrating: the fact that it wasn't there; or that if it actually _was_ somehow still in Albania, he was having so much trouble locating it.

After breakfast, Danielle was left with nothing to do other than sit and stare at the tent walls. She could hear birds chirping outside, and the midsummer sun was somehow managing to filter through the roof tent, creating a warm pool on the floor that she basked in for a while.

She supposed she _could_ do some more research, but she knew she didn't want to read one more word about how Grindelwald had tortured the Muggles into submission. Danielle lay back on Tom's bed, hating how she breathed in his still-lingering scent like it was oxygen to her.

Dumbledore had told them that a timeline must also have been created in which they hadn't come back…he'd obviously meant this one, even if he hadn't been directly referring to it. So, did that mean they had created the suffering and deaths of billions by going into the future? Danielle's head ached, and she groaned in confusion. Well, technically it was _Georgina_ who had started it all by leaving in the first place…Danielle had to admit the other girl wasn't her favourite person in the world at the moment.

When she grew too restless, feeling as if the tent couldn't contain her maddening swirl of emotions, she decided to go for a walk. As she trudged through the forest, she noticed a little golden object perched on her shoulder. Smiling down at the Snidget, she lightly petted its head. "Decided to follow me, Ophelia?" she asked. The bird chirped in response, its red eyes darting about the trees.

Danielle headed deeper into the forest, twisting and turning at random. She was stressing about the situation they were in, stressing about Tom, stressing about herself. Granted, she had been sure she was going to die a number of times…but any moment could be the time when she was proven _right_.

She was so deep in her thoughts that it was quite a long time before she noticed that she had absolutely no idea where she was. Danielle stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around. She could no longer hear birds singing or the waves lapping over the shore—everything was silent. Too silent.

Ophelia suddenly began to chatter up a storm, buzzing around her head like a particularly aggravating pixie. Danielle's breath caught in her throat and she hesitantly raised her wand. " _Point me_ ," she whispered, but there was no point in knowing which way was north when she had no clue where the tent even _was._ With all the spells Tom had cast around it, she probably wouldn't be able to find it again.

Swallowing nervously, she pivoted on the spot, with a sort of pathetic hope that there would be some sort of sign that would show her which way to go…but there was only her, Ophelia, and the trees standing like disapproving, stoic guards above them.

Just as she was about to cast a Patronus in hopes that Tom would spot it (though he could be on the other side of the country for all she knew) there was a crunch of branches from behind her. Danielle whirled around and cast a Shield Charm between her and the source of the noise, hoping it was just a small animal. In retrospect, she realized that she should have cast a Disillusionment Charm, but her mind was sluggish in the heat of the moment.

To her horror, a figure stepped out from between two trees, and instantly Danielle knew it wasn't Tom—he would never be so loud and undisguised. It was a man dressed in the brown costume of Grindelwald's army. He had line of stubble on his chin and a horribly gleeful look in his eyes. His wand was pointed directly at her.

"What do we have _here_?" he drawled in a thick Eastern European accent.

Trying not to let her fear show, Danielle pulled up a false bravado. "Who are you?" she asked.

The stranger chuckled. "I believe I should be the one asking you that question," he said before moving his wand in a zigzag motion. Danielle dodged to the side as a jet of orange light penetrated through her Shield Charm, disintegrating it, and hit a tree behind her. There was a loud crack as the spell cut it right down the middle.

While Ophelia shrieked and hid in her pocket, Danielle tried to remember what she had learned during Dueling Club, but the information seemed to have escaped her memory as she stared, frightened, at the man in front of her. He smiled cruelly and sent another spell flying at her. This one was black and left a trail of smoke in its wake. Danielle literally jumped to the side as it missed her by inches. She tumbled to the ground but got to her feet before he could cast another spell.

"Oh, come on," the man pretended to be disapproving. "I don't want to kill you yet."

" _Incarcerous!"_ she yelled, but the spell was blocked and sent rebounding back toward her. Danielle managed to conjure up a Shield Charm just in time.

" _Cru_ —" he began, and with the shock that he was about to use the Cruciatus Curse, she yelled the next spell that came to mind: " _Sectumsempra_!"

It hadn't been invented until the nineteen-seventies, and in 2011 it was taught to her as a very dangerous spell, bordering on illegal. Danielle watched the wizard's eyes widen as he was faced with an unfamiliar curse, and huge, bloody gashes appeared on his body. He fell to the ground, twitching and shaking, as blood poured out of the wounds.

It was only then that Danielle realized what he had done, and she had no idea what the counter-curse was. "No!" she cried, rushing over to him. The blood pooled around his form, and his eyes were huge circles of astonishment and agony as he stared up at her.

She used every healing spell she could think of, but nothing so much even slowed the flow of blood.. After several minutes of desperate, frantic scrabbling, something in the man's eyes vanished and she was left staring down at an empty corpse.

Danielle wasn't sure how long she sat there in shock, still casting spells as if she could somehow bring him back to life, when another pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet as the wizard's body disappeared. Tom led her into a nearby clearing, but she was crying and shaking so hard she barely noticed he was there.

Danielle sank down one of the trees that surrounded the clearing, curling herself up into a tight ball. She was hiccupping uncontrollably, unable even to react when Tom came over and silently sat down beside her. She kept seeing the terror in the man's eyes, the blood spurting out of his body as he lay on the ground…She leaned over and retched—luckily, her stomach was empty.

When she was certain she wouldn't vomit, Danielle leaned into Tom's side and continued to sob. Through the haze of tears clouding her eyes, she saw that her hands were still stained red. "It won't…it won't come off," she gasped. "The blood…"

Still silent, Tom took her wrist and muttered a spell. The crimson stains were erased from her skin, but she knew that there was still blood on her hands—at least metaphorically. "Better?" he asked, but she wasn't certain what his tone was.

All Danielle could do was nod. "Please don't leave," she begged when she felt him start to stand up.

And for once, he listened to her.

* * *

Tom watched her cry, and for the first time in his life, he didn't know what he was supposed to feel. He had never seen anyone in that hysterical of a state—not in the orphanage, not at Hogwarts, nothing—and he could do little more than press his lips to the side of her head and wait for her to calm down. It was bizarre, the way that it stung a part of him to see her cry, a phantom pain—almost as if _he_ was the one hurt. He wondered if this was what it would feel like to create a Horcrux—the sharp, phasic pain in his chest that almost made it difficult to breathe.

When she finally stopped, taking a deep, shuddering breath and looking up at him, he leaned down and kissed the tears still lingering on her eyelashes. Her body shuddered against his, and he wondered if she was crying again. But her eyes were dry when he pulled away, tasting the salty tang of her tears on his tongue.

A surge of anger and disgust at what he was doing sickened him, and he tried to push away from her, but she whispered, "Please don't leave" and he stopped—just like that. Tom Riddle had never listened to anybody but himself, and the fact that this girl had somehow wormed her way into the deepest recesses of his mind and soul disconcerted him. It was, quite frankly, worrying—it suggested that he wasn't as strong as he had believed he was.

But that was an impossibility. There had to be another explanation.

Perhaps it was just _her_. She had somehow disarmed him, taken away all of his defences.

To Tom, that thought was hardly more welcoming.


	34. Escaping Death

"Tom," Danielle gulped when she had the ability to speak again, "Is my—did I split my soul? Is it broken?" Her hands scrabbled at her chest, as if she could physically pull out the piece of her soul that had split from the whole.

He shook his head and clasped her hands together so she couldn't literally start tearing her hair out. "You did not intend to kill him," Tom said sternly. "Apart from that, you did not use the Killing Curse. Therefore, your soul is still intact."

Danielle nodded, still loudly sniffling. Part of her hated breaking down in front of him, but her tears continued to fall, unbidden and unwanted. "What about _your_ soul?" she whispered, remembering how he had killed Vincent Fletcher in cold blood over a year ago.

He didn't reply, but Danielle already knew the truth. He might not have created Horcruxes yet, and although his soul was still entirely inside his body, neither of them could deny that part of it had split from the whole. "There is—there is a way to put it back together," she whispered. "Remorse…you have to feel remorse…" But did he feel remorse for killing Fletcher? Certainly not.

"Where did you learn that curse?" Tom asked, abruptly changing the subject. "That is very Dark Magic." Curiosity laced his tone.

"It's a new spell," she replied, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. "It wasn't invented until the nineteen-seventies. I…I've never cast it before."

Tom pointed his wand at a tree in front of them and long, jagged slashes materialized in the bark, sap dripping from the wood like blood. Danielle didn't miss the intrigued look that briefly flashed through his eyes. "It is certainly powerful," he muttered, almost to himself. "I would like to meet the wizard who invented it…"

While he pondered, Danielle glanced down at Ophelia, who had dared to poke her head back out of the robes. She stroked the little bird's head, and it chirped in happiness, nibbling Danielle's finger affectionately. The noise seemed to jerk Tom out of his reverie, and he glanced over at the Snidget. "It is rather useful," he admitted. "I underestimated its worth."

"Useful for what?"

"Keeping track of you," Tom replied. He smirked at Danielle's indignant glare. "Did you think I was just going to let you wander around on your own, Clara?"

"You put a Tracking Charm on her?" Danielle demanded. "Why did you do that? I'm not going to run away!"

"So you do not believe it was useful just now?" Tom countered. He extended his index finger and the Snidget flew onto it, excited at finding a new place to perch.

"Too bad you weren't here a bit sooner," she muttered.

"What makes you certain that I was not here the entire time?" Tom asked.

"You were there _all along_?" hissed Danielle, wrenching his arm away and jumping to her feet. "You could have helped me! You—you—" she spluttered incoherently, searching for a word insulting enough. When she could think of none, she whirled around and stomped away. A gust of uncontrolled magic burst from her and a large branch snapped off the tree she was previously sitting under. It would have crashed onto Tom's head had he not conjured a Shield Charm in time.

"Careful, Clara," he called languidly. "You need to learn to control your temper."

"Shut it, you _bastard!_ " she yelled back at him.

Tom didn't like that in the least. His face whitened and he got to his feet, all traces of humour gone. His mouth was a thin line as he began to walk toward her. "Look who's talking! Who needs to learn to control their temper now?" she continued to scream before realizing it had been a very idiotic idea to provoke him. Danielle turned on one heel and ran away, only managing a couple of yards before she tripped and fell to the ground. She didn't bother to get up this time—she just buried her face in the pine needles and inhaled the earthy scent of the ground.

Danielle began to cry again; not just about what she had done, but from the anxiety she'd been trying to hold back for weeks on end. She had no idea what she should do; she was completely and utterly lost.

Tom reached her within seconds; pulling her to her feet, he looked like he was about to lecture her, but Danielle interrupted him before he could speak. "Why don't we just go back to the past?" she moaned. "We'll stop Georgina from leaving in the first place. I should never have listened to that stupid letter—"

"What use would that be?" Tom interjected. "She would figure out a way to get to the future, no matter what Dumbledore does. If we find her now, then she will at least have the sense to know that it is not what she expected, and she will not ever _want_ to go back _."_

Danielle sighed. She couldn't argue with his logic. "I'm sorry," she shuddered. "You must think I'm mad now."

"I have always known you are mad," Tom said slyly, but his eyes held no hint of malice. Danielle reached for his hand and they walked back to the tent in silence.

* * *

It was decided that they would leave for Germany the following day, since Tom was sure the real diadem had been replaced with the replica. With Grindelwald's men patrolling the forests so alertly for the past century, it was more than likely one of them had found the diadem and brought it to Grindelwald. Danielle pointed out that someone could have sold the diadem, but Tom said that the item would have eventually found its way to Grindelwald no matter whose hands it passed through beforehand.

She found herself reading Sefton and Helena's letters before she fell asleep that night. It was bittersweet knowing that although they had haunted the same place for a thousand years, Helena hadn't forgiven her husband. It made Danielle wonder if the Grey Lady loved Sefton as much as she'd claimed.

Perhaps she'd been in love with the forbidden aspect rather than the man himself. It was also very symbolic—Ravenclaw's daughter running away with Slytherin's son. But why would it have been forbidden in the first place? Why was there a feud between Rowena and Salazar? And had Salazar really invented Vetus Periculosus, as everybody claimed? Was the curse more ancient than anyone knew about?

Danielle went to sleep with her mind still turning over the questions. She had a vivid dream wherein Salazar Slytherin came back to life and found out she was in love with Tom. He cursed her with Vetus Periculosus because she was only a half-blood, ignoring her protests that Tom was a half-blood too.

The next morning, she woke up before Tom for once. The light shining into the tent was very weak—it must be very early—and at first Danielle turned over, trying to get back to sleep, but the image of Slytherin's sneering smile kept popping up behind her closed eyelids. She rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling of the tent and listening to the distant calls of birds in the trees around them.

Finally conceding that she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, Danielle quietly got up and crept outside, feeling the dew soak into her shoes. Fleetwing was restlessly pacing around the tree he was tethered to, looking restless. Danielle patted his neck in an attempt to calm him down and he stomped one claw angrily on the ground. "You'll be getting exercise soon," she told him.

Tom appeared soon after that, and to Danielle's dismay she found that they were running out of food again. She thought of ways to preserve what little they had left while she packed her things and Tom took down the wards. When he was satisfied they had left no trace of their presence behind, he gracefully hoisted himself up onto the Hippogriff. Danielle followed suit, only managing to be slightly smoother than the previous time. Joyful at finally being freed of his tether, Fleetwing rose into the air at once and they left Albania behind.

* * *

Danielle had been hanging on to Tom for dear life the last time she'd flown on the Hippogriff, but now that she knew what to expect she found herself drifting off to sleep again. She rested her head on Tom's shoulder and felt her eyes begin to drift closed of their own accord. Far below them, the forests and fields blended into one large green mass.

She wasn't sure if she had fallen asleep or not, since she couldn't remember fully closing her eyes, but it seemed like only a few minutes later Fleetwing began a downward descent, landing with a jarring thump in the middle of a forest that was identical to the one they had left. Danielle rolled off the animal and examined her new surroundings, wondering if they hadn't somehow gone in a circle and were now back in the exact place they had left.

"Where are we?" she asked Tom.

"Northeastern Germany, close to the Polish border," he replied. "Nurmengard should be close by."

They began to walk through the forest, Tom keeping a tight grip on Fleetwing's chain. "So are we just planning to sneak into the prison?" Danielle said.

He gave her a disparaging look. "No, Clara. We will take several days and make a plan beforehand. I want to discover where the prison is specifically located first."

Danielle fell silent. They had been in 2050 for approximately a week…it had to be the beginning of August now. She wondered how long it would take them to discover where Georgina was—if she was even being held prisoner at all. Her stomach churned uncomfortably with the possibility they had been completely wrong.

"Tom," she began after a while, "Have you ever spoken to the Bloody Baron?"

He gave her a withering look. "Of course. I had to find as much information about the curse as possible."

"And what did he say?"

"He did not know how Salazar learned of the curse, though he suspected he had invented it himself. He described it as a slow-working poison, similar to the _Langzaam-Werkt_ curse that Miss Hornby placed on you in Hogsmeade, if you recall."

"Of course I remember," Danielle exclaimed. "It's hard to forget a near-death experience. _You_ carried me up to the hospital wing."

Tom looked amused at the memory before continuing, "The Baron also mentioned that a woman who is carrying a child afflicted with Vetus Periculosus will have a difficult pregnancy, and many have died in childbirth. He did not, however, know why the line has survived this long if most women die."

"Not all of the descendants are afflicted," Danielle said, and immediately clapped her hand over her mouth.

He stopped short, looking suspiciously over at her. "What are you talking about?"

She was caught. In a timid voice, she explained her visit to Little Hangleton during the Christmas holidays and her subsequent conversation slash argument with Morfin Gaunt.

By the end of the story, she almost wished she had lied. Tom's eyes had begun to take on a crimson hue. "You have known this for months and you have not told me?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice. "You met my _father_?"

"I thought it would help you," Danielle cried, taking a step backwards. This wasn't good—this wasn't good at all. This was exactly what she had prayed _wouldn't_ happen. "Tom, calm down, please. Listen to me—I was planning on telling you—"

"The time for apologies is past," he snarled, dropping Fleetwing's rope. The Hippogriff growled and shook the chain off its neck before disappearing into the forest. Danielle watched him leave with a building fear beginning to worm its way through her body.

"You're overreacting," she began, but that was the wrong thing to say. Tom's eyes burned even brighter and she suddenly found herself unable to move.

"You continue to defy me time and time again," he hissed, circling around her immobile figure. "You are an ungrateful little wretch."

Danielle didn't dare to speak; she could only stare, terrified, up at him, hoping he would be able to fight off the curse. "You are lucky I have not killed you yet," he growled. "This time you will not be so fortunate."

She was completely at his mercy, her eyes widening in terror. Just as she felt like she was going to faint, Tom's head snapped up and he closely surveyed the area behind him. "Who is there?" he suddenly called. "Show yourself!"

A jet of red light came shooting out from a thicket of trees. Tom stepped out of its path, and too late Danielle realized it was heading straight for her. She could only watch, helpless, as it hit her squarely in the chest and everything disappeared.


	35. Temporary Refuge

Soft, murmuring voices were the next thing that Danielle was consciously aware of. She let the sounds drift around her—not bothering to pick out the words, just letting them soothe her.

The next thing she noticed was, oddly enough, her heart, beating steadily in her chest. The comforting rhythm coupled with the whispering voices gave her a deeply relaxed sensation the likes of which she hadn't experienced in so long…she just wanted to lie there forever.

Slowly, her other senses slowly began to come back, touch being the first one. She was lying on a large, cozy bed—it was reminiscent of her own bed in the Slytherin dormitory, and she felt a smile cross her face as she instinctively burrowed deeper into the covers.

Her memories were the last thing to come back to her, and when she could clearly recall the past twenty-four hours Danielle knew she was fully awake. But still she didn't open her eyes—as if merely pretending she was asleep would be protection from any danger that might be hovering over her.

Tom had gone berserk and was about to kill her, she was sure, until someone had cast a jinx at him…but he had dodged out of the way and it had hit her instead. Danielle was sure it was a Stunning Spell, so she wasn't worried it would have any adverse effects, but she wasn't sure how long she'd been unconscious…

"Is she awake, Mummy?" a shrill, whiny voice sounded in front of her. Danielle was so surprised to hear a child that her eyes flew open of their own accord; her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

The size of the bed was extremely disproportionate to the size of the actual room—perhaps the bed gave the illusion of more space. There was no furniture in sight, and the only other feature was a small window that faced the edge of a forest. Danielle quickly scanned the room before her eyes landed on an extremely old woman, even older than the landlady at the Leaky Cauldron. Her skin looked as if it would crumble to the touch and she wore a pair of half-moon glasses that reminded Danielle painfully of Dumbledore. Behind the glasses was a pair of startlingly bright hazel eyes that looked every bit as alert as someone of a much younger age.

Danielle's eyes then flickered over to the source of the voice and she saw a little boy hanging onto the doorknob, a worried expression on his chubby face. He couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old, with a head of shockingly red hair and warm brown eyes that eerily reminded Danielle of Alphard. When their gazes met he drew back shyly, hiding behind the door.

"Perseus, I told you to stay outside," the woman said.

The boy immediately looked ashamed. "But I just wanted to see…" he whined.

"You can see her later. Go!" the lady replied firmly. With a look resembling that of a kicked puppy, the boy shuffled out of sight.

Danielle, regaining her voice back, asked, "How did I get here?"

The old lady turned back to her, looking so frail that Danielle wanted to ask if _she_ oughtn't to be the one lying down, but she answered in a surprisingly strong voice, "My husband found you. He sent a Stunning Spell at the boy, but it hit you instead. He eventually managed to get the boy and brought you both back here. " She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wand, placing it on the bed.

"T—thank you," stammered Danielle, grabbing her wand. She smiled brightly, trying to convey the relief and gratefulness she felt.

"You are lucky that Cepheus found you—others would not have been quite so helpful," the lady said gravely. At Danielle's questioning look, she continued, "My name is Sylvia Black."

" _Black_?" Danielle echoed, her eyebrows shooting up.

Sylvia nodded. "My husband is one of the last pure-bloods alive. It angers _them_ to no end that he married a Muggle."

This was even more shocking news to Danielle. "You're a Muggle?" she asked Sylvia, and blushed when the woman gave her a hard look. "Not that it matters…it's just…there aren't many Muggles around anymore."

"I was born into a family that served the Blacks," explained Sylvia. "But Cepheus fell in love with me and we ran away together when we were just seventeen."

"You chose to live so close to Nurmengard?" Danielle asked in disbelief, and the old woman laughed.

"No, no…that wasn't our first intent," she said. "We've been in hiding since our marriage seventy-three years ago. At one point it was rumoured that Grindelwald himself was searching for us. As you can see, we managed to evade him. But both Cepheus and I know we don't have much time left, so we're hoping to find another family we can bring our son to just before the time comes. He's magical, so we're hoping a pure-blood family will take him in and no one will be the wiser."

"Wait," Danielle gaped. "That little boy—Perseus—is your son?"

Sylvia nodded, chuckling again at the expression on her face. "He was a surprise. We are far too old to properly take care of him…but there was no other choice."

"Don't you have other family?" Danielle asked, but Sylvia shook her head.

"None that would take him in. Cepheus' parents, the only people he ever trusted, died many years ago. He has a twin brother living in Ireland, but there would be immediate suspicion if we were to send Perseus there."

Danielle paused, a half-formed idea beginning to take shape in her mind. "If you don't mind me asking…" she began slowly, "Who _were_ Cepheus's parents?"

Sylvia's eyes took on a wistful quality as she remembered. "Their names were Alyssa and Alphard. They were blood traitors…but they always managed to stay one step ahead of Grindelwald, traveling around the world. He didn't want pure-blood spilt, anyway…they had two sons, Cepheus and his brother Eridanus—is there anything wrong, dear?" Danielle had made a strangled sound at the names.

"No," she choked out, unable to hide her amazement. "It's fine."

"Well, Alyssa's brother, Dylan MacDougal, married a Muggle girl—Felicity—just like Cepheus married me—but he wasn't quite so lucky. Grindelwald's men killed Felicity and brought Dylan to Nurmengard. He stayed there for years, and Cepheus wanted to take care of his beloved uncle, so we moved here and secretly corresponded with Dylan. About two decades ago, he abruptly stopped replying, and it was months before we realized he had died. But we decided to stay here, since we had nowhere else to go and we hadn't been caught yet."

Danielle couldn't have been more surprised if Tom had waltzed into the room in Gryffindor robes and announced he was going to take up ballet. Sylvia looked curiously at her, and she quickly began talking, trying to hide her shock. "That's a fascinating story," she managed to say. "Listen…I guess I have some explaining to do as well. My name is Ruth Davies and my…husband's name is Henry. We're from England, and we want to—to contact someone at Nurmengard. But Henry is…ill, and he sometimes becomes out of control…Cepheus saved my life."

The story wouldn't have made sense to Danielle if someone else had been telling it to her, but Sylvia seemed to understand. "You must love him very much," she said quietly.

"I do," Danielle admitted, not sure why she was revealing so much to this old Muggle woman. "But he doesn't understand—he doesn't believe that I would still choose to love him even though I know what he—is. " She'd been about to say _what he would become._

" _Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds_ ," Sylvia quoted.

"You know about Shakespeare?" Danielle asked. "Haven't his works been destroyed by now?"

"Not all of them," Sylvia replied with a small smile. "I will not ask what you are doing here, Ruth, but I want to say that I can help you."

For a moment, Danielle wondered why the woman was being so helpful, before coming to the conclusion that she must be starving for human attention. Who else would they talk to? Even a couple who had been married for—what had she said? Seventy-three years?—would eventually want some variety. No wonder Perseus was so interested in them. Had he ever met anyone who wasn't his parents?

Well, if Sylvia and Cepheus had corresponded with Dylan while he was imprisoned, perhaps they would be able to help Tom and Danielle sneak into Nurmengard.

Misinterpreting Danielle's silence as a sign that she didn't want to speak any longer, Sylvia offered, "You may visit your husband if you want. He's in the next room."

Danielle smiled appreciatively at her and stood up. As she walked to the adjacent room, she couldn't help but notice that the cottage was very small, almost claustrophobic—but then again, three people didn't need much space. Thankfully, the next room was much larger, containing a knit rug, a wooden table, and a mahogany bookshelf. This must be their joint kitchen and sitting-room. Tom was lying on a couch across from her, still unconscious. Whatever spell Cepheus had used on him must have been powerful. Danielle felt suddenly grateful she had only been hit with a Stunning Spell.

An elderly wizard who be Cepheus himself was standing over Tom, keeping a close eye on him. Danielle sucked in a sharp breath as Alyssa and Alphard's son turned to look at her. He had a shock of white hair—Danielle wondered what colour it had been when he was younger—and brown eyes; he'd inherited Alphard's looks.

"Hello," she said shyly, not sure where to look. "My name is Ruth Davies."

Cepheus appeared to be more suspicious than his wife; he nodded at her, but didn't smile or give any encouraging gestures. It was only when Sylvia appeared behind her and put a hand on her shoulder that he relaxed. After Sylvia had finished explaining all that Danielle had told her, his face softened into something that was almost a smile. "So you are lying to us, then," he said, with a bluntness that had to have been passed down from Alyssa.

"Lying?" Danielle stuttered. "No, I'm—"

"You have a Time-Turner," Cepheus replied. Instinctively, Danielle closed her hands around the chain, hiding it back under her robes. "Listen—I've kept a fair amount of secrets in my life, so I know better than to ask you why you came here. I just have one request—do not, whatever you do, reveal to anyone that you met us."

"Of course I won't," Danielle said shrilly. "You can trust us." Cepheus gave her a hard look, and she realized her mistake. "I won't lie about this," she said in a smaller voice.

"Good." He glanced back at Tom, who still hadn't moved. "I don't know what he's cursed with, but I do know that no ordinary Healer is going to be able to cure him. Are you looking for Ravenclaw's diadem?"

The question was so accurate and so abrupt that it took Danielle several seconds before she could think of an answer. "Yes," she said bluntly, unable to lie anymore. "We just spent the past few days in Albania, but we only found a replica."

"I'm not surprised," Cepheus said. "Grindelwald stole the diadem years ago. My uncle told us that it was destroyed when he rose to power."

Danielle's heart sank. So Grindelwald had deemed the diadem too dangerous—just like Tom had suspected. "Well, he'll be able to last a little bit longer without it. We just need to sneak into the castle to…speak to one of the prisoners."

"I can help you with that," Cepheus said. "I assume Sylvia told you about us?" When Danielle nodded, he continued, "You'll need a couple of days to scope out the prison and know the best ways to get in…but as long as you don't come back here again, then I'm willing to help."

"Thank you," Danielle said, though she was slightly hurt at the abrupt comment. Cepheus certainly didn't beat around the bush. "We won't intrude on your hospitality any longer than we need to."

The old man let out a short, barking laugh. "By Merlin, no one talks like that anymore. You're really not from around here."

Danielle smiled weakly, but her attention was diverted as she saw Tom begin to stir. Cepheus stood up as quickly if he'd been cursed. "You talk to him," he told Danielle. "If you need help, just call for us."

He left the room, placing a protective hand on Sylvia's back as he did. The door shut, and soon it was just Danielle and Tom alone in the room. Bursting to tell him all that she had learned, she went over to the couch and kneeled down beside him, the floor still warm from where Cepheus had been sitting.

As if her presence was a cue, he opened his eyes—thankfully, his electric _blue_ eyes. " _Clara_ ," was the first thing he said, sounding half-irritated, half-amused. "As much as I appreciate your concern for my well-being, there is no need to hover over me."

" _Your_ well-being?" Danielle retorted, and proceeded to tell him everything that had happened in the past hour. He looked furious by the time she was finished.

"So you have decided to blindly trust them?" Tom asked. "How do you know they did not perform Legilimency while you were unconscious and extracted your memories so they could manipulate you?"

Danielle rolled her eyes. "If anything, I'm the one blindly trusting _you_. How am I supposed to know when you're going to have one of your 'episodes' and try to kill me? I don't. So don't you go preaching about trustworthiness to _me_."

She stood up and started to leave, but Tom reached out and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her back onto the couch. She stumbled backward and landed on his lap. His arms wound around her, preventing her escape, and her heart immediately began to race. "You need to stop running away from everything that upsets you, Clara," he breathed, his mouth close to her ear.

Danielle was just thinking up a clever, witty excuse when there was a small gasp from the doorway and she twisted around in his arms to see Sylvia staring at them, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she stuttered. Danielle tried to escape from Tom's grasp, but he only held her tighter as he smoothly said, "You have not interrupted anything, ma'am. I was simply expressing happiness that my wife and I are safe."

Danielle's mouth fell open, and he smiled genuinely at her, laughing in the way he only did when he was trying to gain sympathy. Normally if they were caught in a compromising position, he would push Danielle away immediately, but now he was using it to his advantage; charming Sylvia so she wouldn't be mistrustful of him.

"I was wondering if you wanted anything to eat," Sylvia said awkwardly. "I made some lunch in the kitchen."

Tom declined, but Danielle gratefully accepted. She wriggled out of his arms and followed Sylvia into the next room, which barely held a sink, an oven, and a refrigerator—Muggle appliances. "How did you get those?" she couldn't help but ask. "Didn't Grindelwald destroy them?"

Sylvia had a small smile on her face as she replied, "He didn't know about everything." She placed a platter of bacon and eggs in front of Danielle, who ate it eagerly, grateful to have actual meal.

"Do you know where Nurmengard is?" Cepheus asked, stomping into the room. He locked eyes with Tom, who was standing above Danielle as she ate.

"No, sir," Tom said quietly. "We just arrived here."

The old wizard rolled his eyes. "Don't talk to me like that, kid," he snapped. "I know an act when I see one. You have a better chance of getting answers from me if you don't act like a simpering pansy around people you want to charm."

Danielle tried to hide her smile as she watched a livid expression cross Tom's face, but he managed to clamp his blank mask over it. "All right, then," he said stiffly, and she saw him draw his wand. Before she could stop him, Cepheus' and Sylvia's expressions went blank, like he'd done to the landlady at the Leaky Cauldron, and they were soon talking to each other like nothing had happened.

" _Henry,"_ she hissed through clenched teeth, jumping out of her chair, "Why did you do that? They're helping us."

But he merely smirked at her. "I erased the information you told them," he explained. "Now they just think we are lost travellers in need of aid."

If Danielle didn't already have a pounding headache, she would have considered walking over to the wall and banging her head on it multiple times. Clenching her jaw to keep from saying something she would regret later, she turned back to the elderly couple. "Yes, we would really appreciate it if you showed us where Nurmengard is," she said.

Before Cepheus could answer, a small boy raced into the room. "I'll show them!" he exclaimed. His smile was so infectious that Danielle couldn't help but smile back.

"Perseus—" Sylvia began, but Cepheus quieted her. "It's not far from here," he said. "He needs to get out of the house anyway."

Looking ecstatic, Perseus sprinted to the door again. "Come on!" he told Danielle and Tom, gesturing furiously at them.

Danielle slipped her hand through Tom's and tugged him in the direction of the boy before he could cast another Memory Charm on the couple. "You can't say he's not related to Alphard," she whispered as they followed the boy outside. "Look at his eyes." The cottage was in the middle of a wood, tucked safely between two towering trees. Danielle didn't want to think about what would happen if one of them toppled over.

"That does not mean we can trust them," Tom answered. Danielle sighed and rolled her eyes, knowing it would be pointless to argue with him.


	36. Creative Retribution

"So what are your names?" Perseus asked as he led them through the forest, running back every so often to make sure they hadn't gotten lost.

"I'm Ruth Davies, and this is my husband, Henry," Danielle said, trying not to laugh. Tom was looking at her as if marrying "Ruth" had been the worst decision he'd ever made.

"You don't _act_  like you're married," Perseus said bluntly after a moment of thought.

"What makes you think that?" Danielle asked, but before the boy could answer he disappeared out of sight, only to reappear seconds later, beckoning them behind a tree.

"There it is," Perseus said, pointing at something in the distance. Danielle pulled aside a branch and her eyes widened as she took in the daunting sight.

Nurmengard was a forbidding stone fortress, standing hundreds of feet tall. Black-clad guards were pacing around the perimeter, and there were no windows or doors that Danielle could see. It balanced on a set of craggy rocks next to a large body of water, and reminded her of the pictures she'd seen of Azkaban.

"My great-uncle was locked in there for years," Perseus breathed. "But they say he died…"

"Dylan," Danielle mouthed at Tom. He didn't give any indication that he'd heard her; he was staring at the prison with a look of intense concentration.

"Why do you want to go there?" Perseus asked, his wide brown eyes meeting Danielle's. Merlin, if she didn't know better she would have thought he was Alphard's _son_ …they were completely identical.

"We just wanted to see it," Tom said shortly, interrupting Danielle's answer. "Thank you very much. Come, Ruth." Now he was the one to pull Danielle away, leaving Perseus staring after them.

"What are you doing?" Danielle demanded. "We could have looked for ways to get inside!"

"The building has powerful magical protection surrounding it," Tom said. "We would be noticed if we stayed too long."

They'd reached the cottage by then, so she couldn't argue with him any longer. Cepheus and Sylvia smiled wanly at them as they walked inside.

"Remind me why you cast a Memory Charm on them again? Cepheus was going to help us!" Danielle whispered furiously at Tom.

"I do not need help," he replied shortly.

"Then why have I saved your life so many times?"

Eyes flashing dangerously, he rounded on her, but Perseus bounded between them in an attempt to get past. Danielle ruffled the little boy's hair affectionately and walked into the sitting-room, where she examined the bookshelf, trying to ignore Tom. She was sure the books were Sylvia's—they were all Muggle classics. The old woman and Billy, with his insatiable love of reading, would have been best friends.

Her eyes landed on a tattered copy of _Wuthering Heights_ tucked in the corner, and she smiled, reaching out and brushing her fingers along the spine.

"You've read it?" Sylvia asked, noticing Danielle's wry grin.

She nodded. "One of my friends gave it to me as a gift."

Sylvia opened her mouth, presumably to ask who, but Danielle felt a tugging on her arm as Tom pulled her into the small guest room, shooting a polite smile back over his shoulder. "What did you do that for?" she demanded, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

"Muggle books are not allowed in this time, as you very well know," he hissed, turning away from Danielle as if he couldn't even stand to look at her. "Do you want her asking questions about how you managed to obtain a copy of it?"

"Maybe they wouldn't _ask_ questions if you hadn't cast a Memory Charm on them!" she shot back. "So what are we going to do now, huh? Go to Nurmengard right this instant so we can get away from here?"

"Tomorrow," Tom replied shortly. "I need time to plan." He pulled a stack of books out of his suitcase— _Merlin, if I ever see those bloody books again I am going to scream_ —Danielle thought angrily. Really, she was beginning to wonder why the Sorting Hat would even _consider_ her for Ravenclaw. She remembered the first time she'd seen the Prefects' common room and how excited she'd been to see the books there, books that couldn't be found anywhere else in Hogwarts.

Now her heart ached at the thought of the school. Hogwarts was the only place she felt safe and protected—now it was no longer a refuge. Pushing thoughts of the castle out of her mind, Danielle crossed her arms and asked, "Can I help?"

"I have things figured out," Tom replied, scarcely looking up from his books.

"Have it your way, then," Danielle muttered. She felt suddenly claustrophobic in the tiny room—she needed to get out. Without looking back at him, she opened the door and left, feeling a sense of relief when she stepped outside.

It was a humid day, and as she made her way to the cliff she could feel the salty spray blow into her face. Her patience only ran so far, even with Tom. He had to learn that she wouldn't put up with him acting like an arrogant git forever.

But look at her, acting as if she could change him! Perhaps _she_ was the foolish one. Just because he "cared" for her and even kissed her on occasion didn't mean he had to change. He could revert back to the self she'd met him as, the self he _really_ was, at any moment. And she would be powerless to stop it.

Danielle stood on the edge of the cliff, watching the waves crash against the shore and soaking the rocks below. The wind carried a taste of salt that lingered on her tongue, and fear began to rush through her veins like a slow-acting poison as she contemplated what would happen if they were caught. Gulls screeched and wheeled above her head as one brave bird broke apart from the flock, circling down to the water where it was hit by an enormous whitecap and rose, screeching but with a flopping fish in its mouth, triumphant.

With a sudden burst of daring, Danielle took a step forward so that the edge of her shoes were dangling over the cliff, her heels the only thing tethering her to land. She stared out across the water and imagined she could see Nurmengard on the other side. "Damn you, Georgina," she muttered. If only the stupid girl hadn't withheld the information from Dumbledore. Couldn't she have at least waited another twelve bloody hours to leave Hogwarts?

"DAMN YOU!" Danielle screamed again, but this time she wasn't just yelling at Georgina. She was blaming Tom, herself, Dumbledore, _God_ …for their current situation. She wasn't a Gryffindor. She didn't want to be doing this.

Her echo reverberated around the cliffs until it sounded like a thousand Danielles were yelling at once. But her cry was drowned out by the shrieks of the seagulls.

Taking a step back from the edge, she pulled out her wand and aimed it at a nearby rock. She could feel raw magic searing through her veins now, bubbling and spitting and hissing. _Incendio,_ she thought, and the rock instantly burst into flames.

Danielle laughed out loud—she'd thought that she'd never be able to master non-verbal spells. But Dippet had been right—she'd just had to let the magic flow through her and concentrate fully on it. She put out the flames with another wave of her wand and this time thought, _Wingardium Leviosa!_

The rock rose into the air and she caught it in her outstretched hand. Her mood had turned from frustrated to joyous. She could feel the magic singing in her veins, and for the first time she could understand why Tom yearned for power. It was an exhilarating feeling, like her nerves had been set on edge, singing and dancing and humming.

A smile broke out across her face and, her anger gone, began to walk back to the cottage, casting spells on random objects along with way without uttering a single word aloud.

* * *

When Tom was confident that he would be able to make it into Nurmengard without being caught, he closed the books and put them back in his suitcase, a satisfied smirk on his face. It would be too simple. And Clara would obey him at the end of the day no matter how much she protested beforehand, so she wouldn't be a nuisance.

After they'd found that ridiculous Taylor girl and brought her back to 1944, Tom would obtain Clara's Time-Turner and travel to the future. He would find the diadem in the interim before Grindelwald stole it. Tom felt a cold hatred for the Dark wizard—the diadem didn't belong to Grindelwald; it belonged to Tom himself, the heir of both Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Once he was cured and his magic had returned to its full power, he would turn his attention to discovering ways of becoming immortal. When he learned how to create Horcruxes, he would begin his search to find appropriate vessels for them.

The only problem now was _her._ Even if Tom did make himself immortal and gain power in the way his future self couldn't, Clara would still be mortal. She would die one day, left to rot in a graveyard like his pathetic, weak mother. The idea infuriated Tom more strongly than he would have thought possible. He was certain Clara wouldn't be able to create a Horcrux—even if she _could,_ she wouldn't want to. Her soul was too pure, too untainted. Tom would have to find some way to make her immortal that didn't involve her consciously realizing it.

He stood up and swept over to the window, gazing over to where Clara stood on the cliff, staring out at the sea. The silly girl was probably missing her family and friends. Tom snorted in derision—he was thrilled to finally leave the MacDougal twins and Black behind. Not to mention that pathetic lump of a boy, Erik Dahl, and the snide one, Skender Bardhi. Bardhi had better count his blessings that he'd escaped from Tom just in time.

There was a knock at his door and Tom turned back around. "Enter," he called, watching as Cepheus stepped in. His grip automatically tightened on his wand; the boy and the Muggle woman he could deal with, but not this wizard. He had an air about him that reminded Tom of Dumbledore; meddling old fool.

Cepheus was holding that blasted book Clara had been looking at. "Sylvia thought Ruth might want to read it," he said, casting Tom a dark look. Feeling amused, Tom probed through his mind and easily found the cause of his gruffness: Sylvia was afraid of him and, by extension, the old man was as well. Even after Tom's Memory Charm, they were still unsettled.

Well, at least they weren't completely stupid. Unlike certain witches he knew who kept coming back to him, no matter what he did.

Tom smiled charmingly and took the book, thanking Cepheus. With another suspicious glare, the man retreated, and Tom was left alone to breathe a sigh of relief.

He would have to find some way to prevent MacDougal and Black from breeding. Though, by the looks of what he had witnessed back in his own time, it was probably too late.

Tom meant to carelessly throw the book onto Clara's suitcase, but he had to admit it caught his attention. What was in this book that made her enjoy it so much? Although he could clearly read her intentions, there was much he had yet to discover about her.

He glanced at the book one more time before flipping it open.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set when Danielle re-entered the cottage. Sylvia was making dinner for them, despite her protests that they had their own food, and Cepheus was reading Perseus a Muggle fairy tale. Danielle quietly slipped into the guest room, hoping Tom wasn't still cross at her.

He was sitting on the bed, reading, as she'd expected him to be. But it wasn't a textbook, as she'd presumed—he was reading _Wuthering Heights._

Danielle actually had to rub her eyes and blink several times to make sure she was seeing correctly. "What are you—why—" she stammered.

"I was curious," he replied, closing the book and standing up. "I thought it might give me more insight into your character."

"And…?"

"I rather think it did." Danielle backed up into the wall as Tom walked toward her but stopped when there was several inches of space between them. "You are enticed by words," he murmured, his eyes burning into hers. "I will have to remember that."

"What about you?" Danielle asked shakily.

He merely raised one eyebrow, touching his lips to her forehead briefly before pulling away. "I must admit parts of the book were quite entertaining. I did not expect you to enjoy something so…violent."

"What did you have in mind? _Romeo and Juliet?_ Or something else by Shakespeare?"

Tom smirked. "Sometimes he did get it right."

"The only time you'd agree a Muggle did," Danielle muttered under her breath.

His grin widened. "Why do you assume he was a Muggle?"

"Why do you assume he was a _wizard?"_ she countered. "You just can't accept that Muggles are intelligent as well—more intelligent than wizards in some respects!"

"What proof do you have?" Tom asked, still infuriatingly calm. Before Danielle could rattle off a list of reasons, the door creaked open and Perseus stuck his head in.

"Mummy wants me to tell you that dinner's ready," he exclaimed, not noticing the tense atmosphere. Of course, Tom declined dinner, so Danielle was left alone to eat with the others.

"Have you managed to tame Gilgamesh yet?" Sylvia asked in the middle of the meal.

Danielle froze with her forkful of chicken halfway to her mouth. _"What?"_ she choked.

"Sometimes you have to beat him at his own game," the old woman said, and actually winked.

Danielle spent the remainder of dinner wondering what Sylvia meant. When she went back into their room Tom was preparing for the next day's attack on Nurmengard. "Do you think we'll find Georgina?" she asked absent-mindedly while really pondering Sylvia's ambiguous comments.

"I believe so," he replied. "There is really nowhere she could have escaped to."

He glanced up at her, his eyes shining with that strangely amused light Danielle couldn't resist, and with a sudden start an idea began to form in her mind.

Of course, she went to bed before Tom that night. Her heart was pounding in anticipation of what was to come the next day. She didn't want him to see how truly terrified she really was, so she acted like it wasn't weighing heavily on her mind. She finally fell into an uneasy sleep, and comforted herself listening to Tom's steady breathing beside her.

* * *

Danielle awoke very early the next morning, and saw that Tom was still lying next to her. She'd woken up before him for once. Inwardly laughing, Danielle leaned over and gently grazed his ear with her teeth before pulling herself up to a sitting position and throwing her leg over his waist so that she was straddling him. Propping up on her elbows, she moved her lips to his jaw, kissing along his neck and throat until she reached his lips.

 _That_ woke him up. His eyes snapped open, taking less than a second to fix on her. "Clara, would you _kindly_ explain what you are doing?" he asked, sarcasm and annoyance evident in every syllable.

"I can do what I want to my husband," she teased, and brought her mouth back down to his, letting her tongue slide across his lips.

He was as unresponsive as a statue. Danielle inwardly cursed—this would be more difficult than she'd thought. Gently, she kissed his nose and then his eyelids, letting her hair brush against his face. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she moved her mouth down, to the nape of his neck.

"You are trying too hard," he murmured, his hands reaching up to her face and pushing her back from him.

"It's not my fault you're made of stone," she mumbled.

"Am I?" Tom asked, and now it was his turn to kiss her, his warm lips moving against hers softly and then with an earnestness that made her heart race even faster. Danielle twined her hands in his hair, kissing him back as hard as she could.

With a low groan—she wasn't sure if it was voluntary or not—Tom flipped them over, so she was trapped beneath him. His eyes were sparkling with some sort of victory, and she realized that he'd cast a Silencing Spell on the door.

Now it was his turn to place hard kisses down her throat, his mouth lingering on the spot where the hammering of her heart was visible, before she felt his fingers begin to play at the hem of her shirt. One hand traveled slowly down the length of her body, stopping at her thigh, and he pulled it over his leg.

They were kissing more urgently now, and Danielle could feel him tugging her robes off her, his hips digging into hers. Tom's touch burned her skin, and she finally understood those romance novels she had laughed at when she was younger.

"Have my…feminine charms finally got to you?" Danielle managed to gasp as his lips danced over her bare arm.

"Do not flatter yourself," he warned. She could feel the vibration of his voice against her skin.

"I can't believe you sleep in a tie," she muttered. They were still fully clothed, though his were rumpled and her robes were beginning to fall away from her shoulders.

With one last rush of mischievousness, Danielle extended her finger and lightly brushed it down the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons as she did. Tom made no move to stop her, and she traced a pattern on his bare abdomen as he gave an involuntary shudder.

All of a sudden, Danielle pulled away from him, taking advantage of his lethargy to roll out from under him and standing up.

"How does it feel now?" she asked him smugly. "That's revenge for that night in the Leaky Cauldron."

With that, she left the room, leaving Tom sitting on the bed with a furious expression. His shirt was wide open, his hollow cheeks were flushed with red and his normally carefully parted hair was as unruly as hers usually was.

Sylvia was bustling around in the kitchen. When she saw Danielle she smiled and exclaimed, "Good morning! Is Henry awake yet?"

"Oh, he's awake," Danielle answered. "He's just a bit… _frustrated_ …right now." She sat down at the table and took a bite of pancake, unable to keep the grin off her face when Tom appeared. He looked as polished as ever, but the muted burning in his eyes signaled that Danielle was going to pay for it later. He sat down across from her, and Danielle waited until their eyes met before biting her lip suggestively, looking up at him with hooded eyes. He shot her a warning look, and quickly glanced away. If Sylvia hadn't been there, Danielle would have laughed aloud—she had well and truly gotten the better of him. 


	37. Nurmengard's Guard

Tom didn't speak to her for the rest of the meal. Danielle was sure he was trying to make her feel ashamed and apologize to him—which was, of course, not going to happen.

When they went back into their room to gather their things, he still refused to acknowledge her presence as he arranged his luggage into a neat pile, leaving hers strewn messily about the floor.

Danielle sighed loudly. "Look, Tom, I don't see why you're allowed to mock me all you want but when I try to do it you act like a—"

He looked up at her for the first time, his glare rooting her to the spot. "I act like a _what_ , Clara?"

"I don't know!" she burst out. "You're just so—so irritating! I can't even _joke_ without you taking it seriously and acting like you have a stick shoved up your arse! Of course, the great _Tom Riddle_ is allowed to do whatever he wants, but I'm just supposed to shut up and obey you."

Tom's eyes darkened with every word she spoke until she was afraid they were going to turn red. "I see you are still clinging on to the idiotic hope that you can change me—"

"So you think I'm an idiot?" Danielle yelled, secretly grateful the Silencing Spell he'd cast that morning was still in effect. "I'm not! I have changed you, Tom. You just don't want to admit it. We both know that you care for me, which was a damn lot more than you thought you ever could with anyone. You even said that I was the one life you remember caring for. You can't kill me. You just don't like feeling weak and vulnerable, do you? I've complicated everything. You've always been used to having a plan and following it until I came into your life and screwed everything up!" She narrowed her eyes at him, fully aware she was getting herself into a potentially life-threatening situation but somehow not doing anything to prevent it.

She expected him to retort right away, but as she waited, bristling, for his comeback, his head snapped around to the window and he raised his wand. Danielle watched in confusion as his gaze fixed on something over her shoulder, presumably out the window. "Run, Clara," he ground out, his tone urgent.

"What do you—" she began, but Tom reached out and pushed her behind him just as the door was blown off its hinges and the world exploded around her. Danielle screamed as she fell to the floor, shards of glass from the broken window embedding themselves into her legs. Blood trickled from her arms and mouth as she struggled to get to her feet again.

It was as if an air-raid had just occurred, and a bomb had landed directly on the cottage. The entire northern wall was now a pile of rubble, and the bed had been destroyed. Shaking, Danielle got to her feet and peered around Tom, who was standing protectively in front of her.

"They discovered the house," he said in a low voice, stepping through the gap where the wall used to be into the sitting-room. All traces of their recent argument forgotten, Danielle followed him and immediately wished she hadn't as her eyes landed on two blood-soaked bodies on the floor.

Cepheus and Sylvia Black were dead, their eyes squeezed shut as if they had known what was coming. Their bodies were lying in front of a cabinet, inside of which a boy's screams could be heard. Tears filling her eyes, Danielle knelt down and gently pushed the old couple's bodies out of the way before opening the cabinet. Perseus was rocking back and forth with tears pouring down his face. When he saw Danielle, he crawled into her arms and began to wail, burying his face into her chest.

She was numb with shock and disbelief as she pulled him out, positioning her body in a way so that he couldn't see his parents, who had died trying to protect him. "How were they found?" she asked in a high-pitched voice. "They've been living here for yours…"

"I do not know," Tom replied shortly. "But we must leave—."

"It's a bit late for that, boy," a voice cackled, and one of Grindelwald's men suddenly appeared in the middle of the room accompanied by a loud crack. "I bet you wish you hadn't taken that Hippogriff now. It led us right to you."

Danielle had completely forgotten about Fleetwing—how could she be so stupid as to think that the guards wouldn't notice a Hippogriff wandering around the forest?

There were several more loud cracks and the room was surrounded by guards. _They_ were obviously able to get past the Anti-Apparition wards, leaving her and Tom at a disadvantage. She instinctively pushed Perseus behind her in the same way that Tom had pushed her behind him. Thankfully, the little boy's cries had subsided and he was now staring around them with a look of utter terror on his face.

A jet of green light flew at Tom and Danielle began to shout out a warning—but he'd repelled it even before she'd made a sound. He stared at the guard for another second before they began to duel. Of course, all the others were immediately upon them, and soon the room was filled with at least twelve men all shooting curses at Tom, who was repelling them with spell after spell, occasionally throwing in a curse of his own.

Powerful though he may be, Danielle doubted Tom was able to repel twelve of the most highly trained Dark Wizards for an indefinite period of time. Perhaps Voldemort might have been able to, but right now Tom was dueling on raw skill. Danielle saw the shock and rage in the guards' faces as the boy dueled them like a master. "You need to run away, Perseus," she whispered into the boy's ear, kneeling down so they were at eye level. "See if you can find the nearest town."

"What about you?" he asked, his brown eyes wide and streaked with tears.

"We'll be fine," Danielle said. "Go!" With that, she pushed him away, as if trying to give him some momentum. Perseus obediently began to run—but one of the guards dueling Tom had noticed, and just as Danielle screamed, a Killing Curse shot directly at the little boy and he fell, almost seeming as if he had tripped. But he didn't get up again, and a piercing cry sounded in her ears as she began shrieking, unable to tear her eyes away from the prone body lying in the grass—

Something grasped hold of her arm and she tried to yank it away, but she was too weak: there was a burst of agonizing pressure on her body for a split second before the world appeared again. When Danielle's vision sharpened, she realized she was sprawled on the grass in front of the grim fortress that was Nurmengard. Tom's hand was tightly clamped over her mouth. "I found a crack in the wards and Apparated us here," he explained, and she noticed that there was a badly bleeding cut slashed under his left eye. "You need to quiet."

Danielle nodded, and he hesitantly took his hand away from her lips. Tears spilled over her eyelids, and she choked, "Perseus—I tried to save him—"

"It was not your fault," Tom said, pulling her to her feet and casting a Disillusionment Charm over them. "You could not have done anything to prevent it."

Deep down, Danielle knew that he was right, but she couldn't stop the guilt from churning away at her insides as they trudged up the path that led to the immense front doors. "Most of the guards went to investigate the cottage," Tom explained, businesslike again. "There will be some left here, but luckily not many."

Danielle raised her wand, trying to prepare herself, but she was too shaken and disturbed to defend herself properly at the moment.

The doors were wide open, but there was still a guard left standing just inside the entryway. Before Tom could kill or otherwise incapacitate him for life, Danielle sent a Stunning Spell flying at him, where he collapsed against the wall, his wand hanging limp in his hand.

The interior of the prison was what she had always envisioned Azkaban to be like, minus the Dementors. Everything was cold, dark and bleak. The cells were small and windowless. Most of the prisoners were huddled in the corner of their cells, staring blankly at the walls. Danielle inspected each one carefully,but didn't see Georgina. In this timeline, Dylan had spent years in here, all because he'd married a Muggle…

As they hurried up countless flights of stairs, Danielle sent Stunning Spells at each of the guards that were left to guard the prison, hoping that the ones currently at the cottage would remain there for a while longer.

When they reached the top floor, she instinctively knew that they had found what they were looking for. Not one, but two guards stood blocking the entrance. Danielle hesitated—could she cast two Stunning Spells before one of them noticed they were there? But Tom had already taken action and sent two curses flying directly at the guards. One jet of light hit its target, who fell down immediately, but Danielle gasped when the second guard deflected the spell, and she felt the Disillusionment Charm tear away from her body with a painful shudder.

"I should have known you would come to save your friend," the second guard began, a sneering tone to his voice. "I must admit, I'm surprised to see you here…but no matter."

Tom sent another curse at the guard, but instead of a retaliation Danielle suddenly found herself frozen, unable to move. "My apologies," the guard drawled, and Danielle caught a smug grin from beneath his hood. She tried to catch a glimpse of his face—why was he acting as if he knew them? "This isn't playing fair…but you don't play fair either, do you, Riddle?"

Surprise crossed Tom's face for a second for a split second. "You're welcome to use Legilimency on me," the guard mocked. "I strongly doubt you'll be able to find anything of interest, however. Oh, and I'm not going to kill your little pet girlfriend just yet. Poison has always been my preference of choice."

"Who are you?" Tom asked in his most commanding voice. When the guard continued to sneer, he ordered, "I will kill you."

"You think yourself skilled," the guard answered. "But your problem has always been underestimation of those you deem unworthy."

Tom's anger finally boiled over, and he yelled the next curse so quickly Danielle barely had time to process what had happened: " _Avada Kedavra!"_

A jet of green light shot at the guard, but to Danielle's amazement he actually repelled it—but instead of sending it back to Tom, he deflected it toward her.

She was unable to dodge out of its path or do anything other than stare, immobile, at the green light shooting toward her with a rushing sound, her life flashing before her eyes—

But Tom was quicker: he conjured a shield so powerful that the curse actually reverberated off it, hitting the wall behind them and blasting a hole in the stone. Cold fury such as Danielle had never seen before was literally radiating off him, creating a barrier of magic that crackled and shimmered around him. If she had been able to move, she would have taken several steps back.

The mysterious guard, however, just laughed. "Quick thinking, Riddle," he sneered. "I'm impressed. But your pet won't be so lucky if you aren't there to save her."

All of a sudden, he was on the ground yelling in agony. Tom was standing over him—in his rage, he'd managed to cast a nonverbal Cruciatus Curse. Danielle felt the Body-Bind Curse lift, and she staggered forward, heart pounding.

"Tom, stop it!" she cried, tugging on his arm and staring at the guard writhing in pain. His hood had fallen off to reveal a wizened old man with a shock of white hair and dark eyes streaming with tears of anguish. "Please don't kill him."

"He tried to kill _you_ ," Tom retorted, but just as he raised his wand again there was a distant cry from below them—the other guards were back. They didn't have much time left. Danielle pulled Tom over the bodies into the cluster of cells beyond the door. To her dismay, most of them were empty. "She's not here," she moaned, whirling back around. "We did it for nothing—"

But Tom was staring at one of the cells in the far corner, his eyes oddly wide. Danielle followed his gaze until she saw a familiar figure gripping the bars and staring back at them—but it wasn't the person she expected to see.

Her mouth dropped open, astonishment erasing all other emotions as she cried, " _Skender?_ "


	38. Safe But Not Sound

Danielle walked carefully over to Skender, never breaking eye contact. He looked terrible—his tattered rag of a prison uniform was falling off his body, and coupled with his imposing height it gave him the appearance of a Dementor.

He looked just as stunned to see her. "Clara Ashford?" he asked in his thick Albanian accent. "What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," Danielle replied.

"As touching as this reunion is," Tom interrupted, a hint of irony to his voice, "We do not have all day to stay and chat."

Shooting him a dark look, Danielle pulled out her wand and pointed it at the cell bars. " _Bombarda!_ " she cried, and with a brilliant flash of light the door was blasted off its hinges. Skender rushed out immediately and began to sprint away from them.

"Where are you going?" Danielle called after him.

"To save Georgina!" he yelled back. Danielle tore after him, Tom right behind her. They skidded around a corner and she rushed over to where Skender was kneeling next to a tiny cell beside the wall.

Georgina herself was lying on the floor of her cell, which was so small she was barely able to move. Danielle crouched next to Skender and met the other girl's terrified eyes, unable to summon up her previous anger towards her.

This time, it was Tom who unlocked the cell. Skender pulled Georgina out and, instead of bombarding them with questions, she gasped, "There's an island not far from here where they won't be able to find us!"

"We'll meet you there," Skender said, and with a crack, he and Georgina had Disapparated. Danielle instantly grabbed Tom's hand, and her skin had barely touched his when they Disapparated as well.

They reappeared, as Georgina had said, on a small island behind the prison. Luckily, it was covered with trees, their thick canopies hiding them from the watchful eyes of the guards.

"All right," Danielle said once they'd all regained their balance. "First things first—where are your wands?" She nodded to Georgina and Skender.

The two of them shared a loaded glance. "The guards destroyed our wands," Georgina said in a croaking voice.

"You can get new ones later, I'm sure," Danielle tried to reassure them. "Now, I think everyone has some explaining to do."

"I'll go first, since I guess I'm the one who got you into this in the first place," Georgina said. "I tried to go back to 2050. I'm sorry, Clara." She shot an apologetic look at Danielle. "I told you that Dumbledore charmed my Time-Turner so that I couldn't go forward in time. So, instead I…I went _back_ in time, to the day I first arrived in 1943. I waited until my younger self was asleep before stealing the working Time-Turner and replacing it with the broken one. But Skender, who was at Hogwarts at the time, spotted me…I tried to run, but he grabbed the chain at the last second and was dragged along with me…when we arrived here, it snapped off." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tiny, smashed hourglass. Beads of sand spilled out across her palms. "I had to explain to him that I was a time-traveler and why I'd gone back in time in the first place…" Seeing Danielle's expression, she gave a tiny shake of her head, indicating that she hadn't told Skender everything. "At first, I wasn't too worried that the Time-Turner had broken…I thought I could just steal a new one from the Ministry so Skender could go back…but it soon became clear that this new time was very, very different. As soon as we walked into a building…the guards captured us and threw us into Nurmengard. We both figured that we were going to be killed once they'd gotten the information they wanted out of us."

"Did they use the Cruciatus Curse?" Danielle interrupted.

Georgina shook her head. "Thank Merlin they didn't…I don't think either of us would have been able to keep silent for long." She paused, looking suddenly guilty.

"Don't worry," Danielle reassured her. "Nobody could under those kinds of circumstances."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Georgina replied, glancing for half a second over at Tom. "Anyway, the only time we could talk was when we were brought outside for half an hour each day. We both thought we were going to die. I was shocked when I saw you…"

"How did you get all the way to the top?" Skender asked. Danielle quickly explained their confrontation with the mysterious guard. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw something like worry in the boy's eyes.

"You're certain he's still alive?" Skender continued.

Danielle nodded. "Why? Did you know him?"

Skender shook his head, but she couldn't fight off the feeling that he was lying. She glanced over at Tom to see if he'd come to the same conclusion she had, but he was focused on their surroundings instead, presumably making sure that they weren't being pursued by any guards who might have noticed their escape.

"So what's your explanation?" Georgina asked. After a moment of hesitation Danielle launched into the story of their past week—had they only been gone a week?—finding it hard to keep an accusing tone out of her voice as she described what they'd gone through, not mentioning that Cepheus was Alyssa and Alphard's son. She couldn't help but feel sorry for Georgina. The other girl looked like she was about to cry when Danielle finished.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry," she kept saying over and over. "I didn't mean to do this…I didn't know the trouble I'd caused…"

"Well, it's over now," Danielle said firmly. "I'm assuming you want to come back to 1944, then?"

Georgina nodded. "I just don't understand…what was the catalyst? Why did everything change?"

Danielle shrugged. "Whatever the reason, it's going to turn out like this unless you tell Dumbledore how to defeat Grindelwald."

"All right," Georgina said shakily. "Let's go back."

Grasping the Time-Turner with her right hand, Danielle gestured for the four of them to stand in a small circle, hoping that the chain was large enough to fit around everyone's necks. She couldn't help but feel a small, irrational twinge of annoyance at how bloody _close_ Tom was to Georgina. "Ready?" she asked. When they all nodded, she set the date to _28/06/1944_ —the day they'd left—and pulled it back.

When the spinning finally stopped, Danielle tried to ignore the rolling in her stomach and pulled the chain back around her throat. Georgina and Skender both looked very green and were stumbling slightly.

The first thing she noticed was that the trees surrounding the fortress had disappeared. Nurmengard still stood in the distance, but it looked much less frightening and there weren't guards surrounding the prison.

"Thank Merlin," Georgina said, grasping onto Skender's arm. She looked as if she was ready to bow down and kiss the hem of Danielle's robes. She pulled her into a tight hug, so that Danielle's face was squashed against Skender's broad chest. "You've done it—you've actually _done it_ —"

"We are not out of danger yet," Tom said. "We will have to Apparate to a nearby village and find a fireplace where we can Floo to Hogwarts."

"How far is it?" Skender asked.

"About ten miles from here," Tom replied. Danielle noticed that Skender was careful not to look into Tom's eyes, and the other boy was smirking. She shot a glare at Tom for scaring Skender like this, but he didn't look back at her.

"We'll meet you there, then," Georgina said, and with a crack she'd Disapparated. Skender followed soon afterward, and then it was just Tom and Danielle left alone.

"Listen, can you get over what grudge you have with Skender and _act civil_?" Danielle hissed, rounding on him.

Tom turned to her with a deceptively surprised expression. "I seem to recall you suggesting that he might be working for Grindelwald," he replied.

"But he was _captured_ by—"

"That does not mean he is not deceiving us. It could very well be a trick. Did you not notice his concern for that guard?" Tom's eyes were steely blue as he looked down at her.

Danielle sighed in frustration. "Why do you have to mistrust everyone? The entire world isn't plotting to kill you—"

"One can never be too careful." He gave her a pointed look before Disapparating like the others. Danielle groaned; she had never tried Apparating farther than a few feet before. She supposed she would have to learn how to do it someday.

What were the three D's again? Destination, Determination and…Deliberation? Clenching her hands into fists, Danielle concentrated as hard as she could on the mental picture of a small village, trying to erase the image of Tom's annoyed glare from her head.

She turned on the spot and felt the familiar squeezing sensation, but it felt… _wrong_ somehow, as if she hadn't put quite enough effort into it. All of a sudden, a horrible pain erupted in her right leg, and she felt the pressure disappear from around her as she fell to the ground, screaming and clutching her leg.

"Clara!" she dimly heard Georgina cry, and her relief that she had made it to the right place was overshadowed by the agony. Danielle squeezed open her eyes and saw her right leg sprawled out in front of her, her robes covered in blood.

"Splinched," Skender said grimly from beside her, and he clapped his large hand over her mouth. "Please be quiet," he hissed in her ear. "We can't cause a scene."

If Danielle had been in a better position, she would have shot back something like " _You_ try being quiet when your leg just got cut open!" But she settled for screaming into his hand, the shouts muffled. Her eyes streamed with tears and she could feel her brain struggling to shut down and bring her into blissful oblivion. But no—she'd fainted far too many times before—she wasn't about to let it become a habit.

"Can't you heal her?" Georgina asked, her voice high-pitched. "I'll go get Tom—"

" _No_ ," growled Skender. "I was not trained for this—I don't know how to help. And Riddle is currently trying to convince someone to let us use their fireplace. You'll ruin it if you barge into the house now."

"Maybe they'll take pity on us if they see her like this!" Georgina shot back. "Damn it, he's going to _kill_ us—"

"It's not our bloody fault that she doesn't know how to Apparate!" Skender nearly shouted.

 _So much for being quiet,_ Danielle managed to think through the pain. She tried opening her eyes again, but all she could see was the dull gray of the prison uniform Skender was wearing. She was lying on a bed of grass, and he was kneeling beside her. A figure with long hair standing in front of her…that must be Georgina. In the background she could see what looked like a small group of buildings and snow-capped mountains towered in the background. The village must be at the base of a mountain.

Danielle saw a door open in one of the houses and a shadowy figure behind Georgina began to move toward them. She wasn't sure whether to feel relief or worry at Tom's presence. He would be sure to patronize her for hours.

Her eyes closed again of their own accord as a particularly nasty wave of anguish shot through her leg. She was beginning to feel weak, and the sticky feeling was slowly spreading across her body.

"Tom, you have to help her!" Georgina called. "She's Splinched—"

"Get me some dittany," he replied at once. "It is in her bag." Danielle felt cool hands pressing against the wound on her leg, and Skender's hand disappeared from her mouth to be replaced by Tom's. After a moment, he snapped, "Did you not hear me? Where is the dittany?"

It was a direct order, the one he used when talking to his followers, with an edge to it that Danielle rarely heard. It sounded almost like panic—but why would he be worried? Was she that injured?

"Clara, please hold still," she heard Georgina whisper next to her ear.

Danielle's eyes were scrunched shut as hard as they could, but she couldn't stop herself from screaming out in pain as the worst anguish yet hit her leg. A pair of arms held her firmly down as she thrashed around. Later, she would realize it wasn't half as bad as the Cruciatus Curse, but at the time pain was the only thing her brain registered.

All of a sudden, the agony stopped—and her eyes flew open. She was staring up at a dull blue sky, her hands clutching her leg. Her jeans were pulled up around her knee, and the wound had disappeared, leaving only the faint trace of a scar. Someone had Vanished the blood, so it looked like she had merely fallen down and twisted her ankle.

Skender and Georgina were standing on either side of her, while Tom was kneeling by her side, holding her down. Her eyes, a bit slowly, focused on his, and she could have sworn she saw relief in them. "I'm sorry," Danielle began hoarsely. "I should have practised Apparating beforehand—"

"I should have foreseen it, Clara," Tom said, a hint of a sigh in his voice. "Can you stand?"

Danielle slowly sat up, but was attacked by a wave of dizziness. She felt a swell of nausea, and was so weak she began to shake.

"What's wrong?" Georgina asked shrilly as Tom caught her before she could fall.

"She has lost too much blood," Tom replied.

She needed a Blood-Replenishing Potion, but unfortunately, Dumbledore hadn't thought to give them some of those, Danielle thought wryly. She was cold and clammy, and her vision was starting to blur. Tom lifted her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. "Go into the house," she heard him saying. "There is nobody there."

Casting anxious looks back at her, Georgina and Skender rushed ahead of them. Tom began to walk at a slower pace. Danielle rested her hand against his face. "I'm as pale as you now," she whispered, managing a weak smile.

Tom wasn't amused. He glanced down at her, and again there was that flash of worry in his eyes before he looked back up, a steely glint in his expression. Danielle's heart thumped erratically, as if it was struggling to pump with what little blood it had left.

Her vision was slipping in and out of focus as he carried her into the house. It was a small, cozy cabin, not unlike the Blacks' house. There was fireplace already ablaze with green flames against one wall, and Danielle caught sight of Skender's back disappearing into the flames.

Tom wasted no time in stepping into the fire, and Danielle was sure she momentarily fainted, because she didn't recall spinning through the hundreds of fireplaces it would take to get to Hogwarts.

When she next became aware of the world, Tom was still holding onto her, and they were standing in Dumbledore's office. There was a look of unbridled shock on Dumbledore's face.

"Would it be too much for me to ask what is going on?" he said. Through her sluggish brain, Danielle noticed that it was early morning outside—meaning that they had arrived too early and Georgina would have just left.

"It's a…long story, Professor," she slurred, and with an intense, terrifying wave of dizziness, her vow not to faint disappeared and she blacked out.


	39. Unnoticed Changes

When Danielle came to, she was propped up in the chair facing Dumbledore's desk. The first thing she saw was his light blue eyes, and she felt a wave of relief. The world was no longer spinning around her, and her vision sharpened in an instant. "How long was I out for?" she asked, her voice back to its normal strength.

"Around ten minutes," he said pleasantly. "Miss Taylor rushed up to the hospital wing to fetch you a Blood-Replenishing Potion."

Danielle swiveled her head around and saw that Georgina and Skender were standing by the door rather awkwardly. She smiled gratefully at Georgina, who looked too worried to smile back. Tom was standing just behind her, resting one hand on the top of the chair.

"Professor, I can explain—" she began, but Dumbledore shook his head, holding up a hand to stop her. "Mr Riddle has explained everything," he said. "Miss Taylor and Mr Bardhi confirmed his story."

Danielle leaned forward in her chair, still not able to banish the fear that refused to unclench its icy grip from her bones. "No wonder you were so quick to agree to us going into the future," she mused. "It already happened! We'd already told you."

Dumbledore nodded. "The four of you just need to stay out of sight for the next hour."

"Isn't Skender going back to Albania?" Danielle asked, twisting around in her seat to look at him. The hulking boy shook his head.

"I am staying at Hogwarts for now," he said. "It is too dangerous to travel before the war ends."

"Speaking of the war," Tom interrupted, "I believe that Miss Taylor has some… _crucial_ information for Professor Dumbledore."

"She will tell me what she knows as soon as you exit," he agreed lightly. Danielle quickly stifled her laughter as Tom's hand tightened in annoyance around the arm of her chair.

She was sure he was going to find some excuse to stay in the office while Georgina told her story, but just as he opened his mouth Danielle jumped up, using his hand as leverage. "Professor, is it possible to use a piece of parchment as a Portkey?" she asked quickly.

"Of course," Dumbledore said, his smile widening. He offered Danielle a familiar piece of yellowed parchment. Grabbing a quill and grinning to herself, she wrote, _There is a reason you are going into the future to find Georgina instead of stopping her before she left. P.S. Don't let Tom see this. You'll thank me later!_

Ripping the parchment in half, she scribbled _31/07/2050_ on the other side and gave the first piece to Dumbledore before motioning to Tom. "Come with me," she told him.

Tom looked livid, but he followed her out of the office. As the door shut behind them and Skender, Danielle distantly heard Dumbledore remark, "The course of true love never did run smooth."

Hiding her smile, Danielle turned to Skender. "Are you going back to the Ravenclaw common room?" she asked.

He nodded. "Listen, Clara, I just wanted to thank you for saving me—us." He looked sincere, and Danielle looked over at Tom as if to say _See? He's on our side._ But Tom's face was impassive as he watched the other boy, with only the slightest hint of distaste.

"It's no problem, really. Just—for Merlin's sake, stay out of sight," Danielle told him. Skender smiled at her—the first time she'd actually seen him smile—before turning the corner, his robes swishing out of sight.

She turned back to Tom, whose head had snapped around as he listened to something in the distance. He had a strange expression on his face as he walked down the hallway, wand raised. Danielle followed him and her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she caught sight of herself and Tom twenty feet away. Her past self was pinned against the wall, Tom's hands on either side of her head. It looked much more threatening than it had been, and for the first time she wondered what other people thought when they saw them together.

"…You are not seriously considering this?" she heard him ask. "You do not know where to find a Time-Turner, not to mention you do not know what year to go to."

"Weird, isn't it?" Danielle whispered to the Tom beside her, whose eyes were fixed on his past self. "Dear Merlin, two Tom Riddles in one place! I don't think the universe can handle it."

But he wasn't paying attention to her. He muttered a spell under his breath, and a loud bang echoed throughout the hall. The other Tom immediately spun around, wand pointed at them. There was something like a smirk on the future Tom's face.

"I don't understand how getting one up on yourself counts as a victory," Danielle whispered. But Tom hushed her, and they watched as the two of them began walking down the hall—right in their direction.

"Damn," Danielle hissed. She grabbed Tom's arm and they dove into the Prefects' Bathroom, Danielle only stopping to throw the note on the floor. She waited with bated breath as she heard her past self pick up the note, and an exclamation of, "That's impossible. It looks like my writing."

 _That's because it is,_ she thought sourly. While she and Tom bantered in the hallway, she took a moment to examine her surroundings. They were hiding behind the door, and the backs of Danielle's knees were painfully pressing into the edge of the ornate bath. Tom was standing right next to her, and her face was pressed into his side. When she finally heard their past selves leave and Myrtle's wails grow fainter (thankfully the ghost hadn't spotted them) she was about to tiptoe into the hallway again, but distant footsteps sounded from outside and Tom pulled her back. To Danielle's horror, the footfalls stopped right outside of the bathroom.

"How long do you think we—oh. Sorry for interrupting," Alyssa giggled. She was clinging on to Alphard's hand.

The four of them stared uneasily at each other before Alyssa gave them a sly wink and pulled Alphard back out of the bathroom. Danielle could hardly stand to look up at Tom, her cheeks flaming. But below the humiliation she realized that this must have been why Alyssa was confused at dinner when Danielle hadn't known where Tom was—she had seen them together in the bathroom.

"No, it's fine, we were just, er—" Danielle called after them, but they had already retreated. She had no choice but to turn back to Tom, who was smirking. "They left before I could say anything," she said lamely.

"I can see that," he said, but he didn't look at all bothered. His demeanor was almost playful as they left the bathroom and continued down the hallway, checking to make sure their past selves were completely gone. Danielle wondered how Georgina had managed to tell Dumbledore how to defeat Grindelwald in such a short period of time—she had to have left his office by now if the timeline was anything to go by.

"I've been thinking," Danielle suddenly began, "That you owe me. After all, with all I've had to go through for you, I deserve something in return, don't you think?"

"What do you want?" Tom asked. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Danielle couldn't help but imagine that his tone was slightly suggestive.

She stopped abruptly, standing in a pool of sunlight that shone through the cracks in the walls. "I want you," she said starkly.

Tom stopped as well, staring emotionlessly down at her. He didn't answer.

"I've known who you are for almost two years, but I still don't know _you_. You're always…always putting up this front, and even when you show emotion I know that you're just pretending. I know what you're capable of, and nothing is going to change that. All I want is to know who you really are, Tom. I know you've never shown anyone who Tom Riddle really is…but I do. I'm the only person who's actually _cared_." Danielle's breathing was coming faster, her words tumbling out of her mouth in her desperation to get them out in the open. The sunlight streaming onto the back of her neck was suddenly too warm.

It took a long time for him to respond. His blue eyes were burning with some sort of emotion, but Danielle couldn't tell what it was. She stared at him for what felt like an eternity, searching his face.

"I hardly know who you are either," he said flatly.

"What do you mean?" Danielle demanded. "You've seen more of me than anyone else has." Her voice cracked at the end, and she averted her eyes from his gaze.

"Clara, you know perfectly well that is a lie," Tom said, and his voice was almost a snarl. "I have no _idea_ who you are. I did not even know your real name until a month ago."

"I don't mean to," Danielle cried, unbearably frustrated. "Listen, Tom—I don't bloody care if you don't want to hear this—but… I just…I just want to know who you are."

Tom stared at her for another second before reaching out and shoving her forward. Danielle's back slammed into the wall, but she didn't even have time to speak before his lips were upon hers with a crushing force. He kissed her fiercely, as if they were completely alone and weren't in danger of being discovered at any second. He had never kissed her like this before, and with an erratic skip of her heart, she realized that he was about to give her what she wanted. _This_ was Tom Riddle, and he was finally revealing himself, every chameleon part of him slowly fading away to reveal his true self.

Danielle kissed him back, pouring every bit of emotion she had into the embrace. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and his body pressed into hers, as if he was trying to physically meld them together.

This time she was the one to pull back slightly, too lightheaded to think straight. When he glanced up to at her, his eyes were a brighter shade of blue than she had ever seen them, and she thought inexplicably of Dumbledore. "That was…nice," Danielle squeaked. "I don't imagine you've ever kissed anyone like that before?"

He growled into her throat, and she felt his tongue run along her upper lip as he daringly explored her mouth. They were both urgent now, grabbing at each other. Danielle's thoughts were nothing but a vague haze now; Tom was all she thought, all she breathed, all she felt. Merlin, was it possible to love someone like this? Her heart felt as if it was about to burst.

All of a sudden, Tom pulled away but kept a tight hold on her. It took several seconds for Danielle's vision to return, and when she did she saw true anger brewing in the stormy depths of his eyes. She could only think of one person who he reacted to like that.

Peering around his tall form, she saw a wizard dressed in bright magenta robes walking down the hallway toward them, a smile on his face. "Good afternoon, you two. I hope I have not interrupted anything," Dumbledore said lightly, although the mischievous twinkle in his eye suggested that he knew _exactly_ what he had interrupted.

"No, Professor," Danielle said, even as she straightened her robes and saw Tom running a hand through his tousled dark hair, attempting to flatten it back to its original position. There were spots of red high on his cheekbones and no amount of practice at Occlumency, it seemed, was able to dampen the feverish light in his eyes. They seemed to burn as they looked at her, and Danielle felt herself blush under his gaze.

"Good, good," Dumbledore smiled. "Well, I think you should be pleased to know that your past selves have successfully made it into 2050. It appears things worked themselves out, wouldn't you agree?"

Well, one thing _hadn't_ worked out, but Danielle nodded anyway.

"Now, Mr Riddle, I would like a word with you in my office, if you don't mind."

"Yes, Professor." Tom turned and followed Dumbledore, but not before casting one last scorching look at Danielle. His lips parted slightly, as if he was imagining kissing her once more. Danielle felt her heart ache as if a part of her body had actually been torn away from her. She watched the two of them leave, disappointed and feeling more than slightly irritated at Dumbledore's interruption.

"Merlin's mistresses!" a voice crowed from behind her, and she turned to see Alyssa coming up behind her, looking immensely satisfied. It appeared that her friend wasn't experiencing the same frustration as she was. "What just happened? Tom looked like Dumbledore had just interrupted the two of you shagging."

"Well," Danielle said, feeling her already-red cheeks burn even brighter, "Any longer and he probably would have."

* * *

She brought Alyssa and Alphard to the Prefects' common room, feeling like she needed her friends more than ever. Although she'd only technically been gone a week, it felt like much longer. While they explored the room, Dylan strode in, looking exultant. Apparently Felicity was planning to visit England during the summer. Danielle, who was yet to meet the Muggle girl he was so enamored with, was relieved to see him looking cheerful for once.

Thankfully, Alyssa and Alphard had toned down their affection in the presence of Dylan, and settled on merely holding hands. Danielle felt a rush of pride as she watched her friends chatter excitedly, but also regretted that she couldn't tell them everything. She wondered how they would react if she were to tell them who she was really was. She just hoped that if they ever _did_ find out one day, they would take the news better than Tom had.

Her hands absent-mindedly reached up to her neck and she felt the chain of the Time-Turner press against her skin. She wondered how Georgina's plan would work out. What if something went wrong and, despite all the actions they had taken, Dumbledore still wasn't able to defeat Grindelwald? How would they have any way of knowing?

With a small gasp, Danielle sat bolt upright. They _did_ have a way of knowing whether things would turn out or not.

* * *

"Now, Tom," Dumbledore began as he ushered the sixth-year into his office. Neither of them had spoken during the walk, and Tom stayed standing stiffly at the door while Dumbledore settled himself into his seat. There was a bowl filled with shimmering silver liquid on his desk that had not been there previously. "Before you and Clara left, I told you that sometimes even the most unlikely situations can give you a better understanding of yourself. Do you remember that?"

"Yes, sir," Tom replied, He looked annoyed and uncomfortable, clearly not bothering to put on his false air of charm. Then again, he had rarely bothered with his pretense around the Transfiguration professor anyway.

"Good, good," Dumbledore smiled. "And, if I may ask, do you know why I gave you that advice?"

Tom paused, and he half-opened his mouth as if there was an answer on the tip of his tongue before closing it again. His expression was guarded. "No, sir," he said.

"Ah." Dumbledore looked disappointed as he unwrapped a sherbet lemon. "You still do not trust me, Tom. I am hardly surprised, but I cannot say I am thrilled about it. After all I have done to assist you through the years, you still view me as the villain. Sometimes I wonder if our relationship would be different had I not been the one to meet you at the orphanage six years ago." He gave Tom a pitying look, as if the boy he had first encountered was still there—before Tom had learned to conceal his emotions and flatter those who mattered. "Alas, there is nothing I can do to change your mind."

"I daresay you find me hardly trustworthy as well," Tom replied, his eyes locked on Dumbledore's.

The Transfiguration professor chuckled, a twinkle of amusement lighting up his eyes. "A very suspicious thought, Tom, but I think that you will agree it is hardly wise for me to divulge my secrets to you, especially when you were planning my murder less than two years ago. "

Tom's eyes flashed, but Dumbledore continued on as if he hadn't noticed. "I realize that standing here listening to an old fool babble on instead of going outside and enjoying the weather is rather trying, but I do hope that you will get something out of what will seem to you as meaningless babble.

"There is a kind of magic more powerful than anything you will ever learn at Hogwarts—indeed, more powerful than anything in the entire world. It has infinite possibilities, and it has the power to utterly, irrevocably destroy the human soul, or render it, in a way, immortal. It can even reach beyond the veil of death. Both wizards and Muggles wield this kind of magic, and nobody is yet to fully understand it."

There was a conflicted expression on Tom's face—he looked intensely curious, but there was already a part that seemed as though he already knew what Dumbledore was talking about.

"Love," Dumbledore said, and there seemed an infinite sadness injected into that one syllable. "Do not look at me like that yet, Tom! Do you hate what you do not understand? By hating it, you refuse to figure it out. Therefore, you are letting it conquer you. You aspire to be more brilliant than anyone else, yet you ignore the area of magic that is the least studied. Aren't you a bit curious?"

"It can destroy you," Tom replied, but his words were hollow, automatic, as if he had trained himself to repeat it from a very young age and was merely going through the motions. "It is a weakness—"

"But it has the possibility to raise you up beyond belief!" Dumbledore cried. "You are probably the most brilliant student to ever walk through these halls—the only wizard who is likely powerful enough to truly probe the depths of a magic such as this if you chose to—and yet you scoff at the very notion! If you choose to not try and understand this, you are accepting weakness. You cannot become truly great unless you have understood the most powerful force that will ever exist."

"With respect, _sir_ ," Tom said through gritted teeth, "Perhaps it is the most powerful force in your opinion, but I beg to differ—"

"How can you judge something if you have never experienced it?" Dumbledore asked, now calm. He folded his hands in a steeple position and stared over the top of his half-moon glasses at the teenage boy in front of him. Seeming to sense Tom's next argument, he continued, "If you believe that Dark Magic is superior to love, why is Clara not dead yet? Why did you not sacrifice her to further your beliefs? If you were so certain of that, why must you rethink your moral code?"

"The essentials have not changed," Tom replied. His teeth were clenched and he looked as if he was about one step away from cursing Dumbledore. "Perhaps… _certain_ …things have changed, but—"

"The small changes eventually add up," Dumbledore replied with a half-smile. "It is very difficult to change your outlook on life, Tom. Believe me—I know. But after enough time has passed, you might find that you are completely different without even realizing it…" He lapsed into silence, humming to himself as though he was the only one in the room.

Tom didn't speak. He was still rigid as a board. It looked as if it was taking every ounce of self-control he had to not either leave the office, or curse the wizard sitting before him.

"For if you have not changed, Tom, what gives you any reason to be angry at me?" Dumbledore asked. "But I digress. I did not call you up here to discuss my ramblings. Ah—how rude of me, I did not even offer you a seat." The chair in front of his desk was simultaneously pushed forward.

"Thank you, sir, but I would prefer to stand," Tom said tautly.

"I insist, _Tom_." The word was a silent order. Forcing a smile onto his face, Tom slowly uncrossed his long legs and lowered himself into the chair, his mouth a fine line as he watched Dumbledore, determined to stay as far away as possible.

"Now, I have been working diligently on researching Vetus Periculosus, as you know. There are some details I want to ask you. Will you trust me with some information?"

"Is it necessary information?" Tom asked.

"Quite necessary," Dumbledore replied serenely. "I need to see some of your memories in order to gain more knowledge of the curse. I trust you know what a Pensieve is?" He nodded at the bowl in front of him.

When Tom continued to look suspicious, he sighed. "We appear to have hit an impasse. I am going to find the information out some way, but I feel you would agree that cooperation is the much easier option."

It was plain what he was doing: by remaining cheerful in Tom's moody silence, he was making the boy look and feel like a sulking child. Tom realized this, and after another moment met Dumbledore's gaze head-on and said, in a perfectly charming voice, "Yes, sir. I will cooperate."

Dumbledore's face broke out into a wide smile, as if Tom had agreed without hesitation. "Good, good!" he said. "The information can be quite valuable." He pushed the bowl over to Tom. "I would like the most significant memories in which you have experienced the curse, starting as far back as you can remember. Just lift your wand to your temple and concentrate hard on the memory you would like to extract."

Tom did as he was told: after he'd held his wand against his temple for a second, a fluid, silvery substance seemed almost to emerge from his skin into his wand. Carefully, he tipped the glowing strand into the Pensieve. He did it a total of five times before stopping and glancing back up at Dumbledore. "Is that enough?" he asked.

"More than enough," the professor replied. "Thank you, Tom. Now, if you would just—" A loud hammering on the door interrupted him. Dumbledore stood up and swept over to it, revealing a disheveled-looking Danielle. "Professor, I wanted to—oh, er, sorry," she quickly apologized, seeing that Tom was still present. "I'll come back later…"

"By all means, Clara, you may stay—if Tom agrees, of course," Dumbledore said, glancing back at him. Tom nodded, and Danielle stepped into the room, embarrassed. She'd made up an excuse for her friends about needing to go to the Owlery to send a letter and had instead sprinted all the way to Dumbledore's office. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"What were you doing, sir?" she asked Dumbledore, eyeing the basin on his desk. "Is that a Pensieve?"

"It certainly is! Excellent guess," praised Dumbledore. "Tom has kindly agreed to show me some of his memories that might be crucial to finding out the secrets of his curse."

Danielle was intrigued. "Do I get to see these memories too?" she asked eagerly, looking at Tom this time.

"I do believe that was the reason I agreed to let you come in," he said dryly. He didn't look at her, and Danielle couldn't help but wonder if he was still shaken by their most recent interaction. She certainly couldn't look at him without feeling a bit embarrassed by what they had almost done in the middle of the hallway.

"Would you like to go first, Clara?" Dumbledore offered. "Just lean forward and as soon as your skin touches the memories, you will be transported inside."

Danielle only knew how Pensieves worked in theory. With Dumbledore and Tom's gazes on her, she felt a bit of trepidation as she walked over to the desk and leaned forward. The silver memory swirled inside, seeming almost corporeal, as if she could reach out and stir Tom's memory with her fingers. Taking a deep breath, she bent over and the closer she got to the swirling depths, the more she began to feel a tug toward the basin, similar to using a Portkey.

All of a sudden, the office disappeared around her and she was sucked into a whirling void. She barely had time to scream, as her surroundings immediately disappeared and re-formed around her.

Danielle landed unsteadily on her feet and collapsed against Tom, who set her upright. They were standing on a bustling London street that she immediately recognized as Charing Cross Road. A group of small children were standing just outside the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. They were all dressed in tattered coats. Most were very thin and a few were shivering as a freezing winter wind blew past them. Although she couldn't feel the cold, Danielle's heart went out to them.

They all seemed to be between the ages of five and ten, with miserable looks on their faces. Danielle spotted a younger-looking Mrs Cole, and with a jolt, the gloomy face of Billy Stubbs. She inched closer to get a better look at her great-uncle, and noticed a lone boy standing several feet from the rest of the group. He looked to be about four years old, but was already taller than most of the other orphans. There was a serious expression on his young face and his jet-black hair was pulled under a tartan hat. Danielle recognized the bright blue eyes of Tom at once. She grinned at the much older version standing next to her, but didn't dare to tease him when Dumbledore was right there.

Mrs Cole appeared to be telling them some trivia about the street, such as the bookseller's that neighboured the Leaky Cauldron. The children's eyes glazed right over the entrance to the pub—all except for one. Danielle watched the frown on the young Tom's face grow deeper as he looked between the others and the shop. It was quite entertaining, she had to admit, seeing this young Tom who had no control at all over his emotions. The frustration on his face seemingly grew to an unbearable point before he burst out, "What about that building?"

Mrs Cole stopped in the middle of her lecture and looked quizzically down at him. "What building, dear? You mean the record shop?"

"No," Tom said. "The one with the gold windows!"

"Tom, there's nothing there," Mrs Cole said, looking slightly worried now. Several children snickered.

Tom's cheeks were red with embarrassment, not just the cold, Danielle figured. "There _is_ a shop there!" he cried. "It says it's called the Leaky Cauldron—"

"How do you know that?" Mrs Cole asked. "Tom, you can _read_?"

"Yes," he scowled, "But I—"

"Tom, I'll have a word with you later," Mrs Cole said, and began to hurry the children off, but Tom wasn't finished yet.

"Can't you see it?" he asked. "It's right there—"

"Quiet, Tom," the matron snapped, flustered. "Now, children, come with me."

Moving like sheep, the children followed her, some casting scared glances back at Tom. They were no longer laughing at him. Danielle, Dumbledore, and the older Tom, who were the only ones left behind to observe him, saw his eyes turn red. It was very eerie to see on a little boy, and she found she couldn't look at him for too long.

The young Tom, however, didn't seem to realize that his eyes had changed. Taking one last longing look back at the Leaky Cauldron, he followed the other orphans, but no sooner had he taken a step forward when he began to cough so violently that he fell onto the snow. Shuddering, he tried to get up, and ran after the others.

"Was that your first time experiencing the curse?" Dumbledore asked. Without looking at him, Tom nodded. "Did you ever go back to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"No," Tom answered.

"Did you believe that perhaps, irrationally, it was what caused you to become ill?" After a moment, Tom nodded again. "And did you often experience periods of illness or loss of memory when you became angry?"

Danielle thought of Billy's memories that he had shown her—Tom had killed Barney the rabbit, and then again he'd lured Amy and Dennis into the seaside cave. He'd certainly been provoked those times.

Before she could ponder any longer, their surroundings blurred and shifted until they were no longer standing in the middle of the street, but in a dingy, drab room she recognized as the orphanage. Tom looked much older now, the same age as he had been in the cave, ten or eleven years old. It was pouring outside, the rain hammering an even rhythm against his window. He was still tall and slender, but his cheeks were fuller and he looked healthier—the curse hadn't begun to take effect yet. But his perfectly detached, cold expression was the same.

Danielle took a step closer to the boy. He was sitting on his bed, a book open on his lap. But he didn't appear to be reading it; his brow was furrowed as if he was concentrating hard on something. All of a sudden, he jumped up—he was taller at eleven than Danielle was at present—and put the book back down on his bed, running out of the room and down the stairs. The three of them immediately followed just in time to see him hesitantly walk into Mrs Cole's office. Ah—so he'd learned to charm people now. Danielle wondered if he had made a conscious decision to pick that skill up, or if it had just come naturally after years of observing people.

"Hello, Tom," Mrs Cole said, putting down her bottle of sherry and glancing up at him. "Did that Professor Dumblesnore give you all the details you needed on your new school?"

"Yes, he did," Tom replied, clasping his hands behind his back. "I was just wondering…did he say anything about strange illnesses?"

"No," Mrs Cole replied, frowning. "Why, are you ill?"

Tom shook his head, but Danielle didn't miss the flash of disappointment in his eyes as he turned back around…

The scene dissolved again, and this time they were standing in the middle of the Hogwarts library. Tom, who was still a first-year, was bent over a large book, entitled _Curses of the Wizarding Worlde._ Danielle could register the despair on his face as he flipped through it. He must have known that he was different from others by now, even in the wizarding world, but he had always kept silent about it, enduring his illness for years…

Again, the memory disintegrated, and now they were in the Slytherin common room. Tom was sitting on an armchair, staring into the fire. He looked to be slightly older—perhaps twelve or thirteen. His boyish features were starting to morph into those of a teenager, and he had evidently just gone through a rapid growth spurt. His followers were scattered around the room.

"Merlin, this is boring," Abraxas Malfoy muttered, the sneer evident on his face from where he was sitting on the couch, Tom's right-hand man as usual. "Who the bloody hell cares about Salazar Slytherin's curse?"

Tom glanced up sharply, barely disguising the flash of interest in his eyes. "What are you talking about?" he asked. His voice was deeper, older.

"Thorfinn Rowle is paying me ten Galleons to do his History of Magic homework," Abraxas replied. "You know—the burly second-year?"

"I know who he is," Tom answered coldly. "I meant Slytherin's curse."

"Oh, it's a load of rubbish," Abraxas snorted. "Apparently Slytherin cursed his son because he fell in love with Ravenclaw's daughter. Load of dragon dung, if you ask me. Nobody believes _that_ anymore."

Tom settled back into his chair, but his eyes were still intent…

For the fifth time, the memory disappeared. They were in the Hogwarts library again, but this time in the Restricted Section. Everything was dark, quiet; it was late at night. This time Tom looked almost as he did at present, except for a slightly more boyish-looking face—perhaps he was fourteen. He opened up the textbook and Danielle saw it was the very same textbook that _she_ had first learned about the curse from— _A Concise List of Dark Curses_. He flipped open to the page about Slytherin's curse and read with an astounding speed, his eyes glowing in the candlelight…

And all of a sudden they were back in Dumbledore's office—Danielle had to make sure she was back in the present and not in another memory.

"That is certainly fascinating, Tom," Dumbledore said, looking at Tom with an intense curiosity. "Thank you very much. I'll see what I can do with that new knowledge. Now, Clara, what did you come rushing in here for in the first place? I daresay it was very important."

"Huh? Oh, well…" Danielle trailed off. She'd almost forgotten herself why she had been in such a rush to get to his office. Now, thinking about it, she felt silly for thinking it would work. "I, er, know this is going to sound very stupid…but I want to go to the future again."


	40. Admittance

At Danielle's declaration, Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and looked mildly surprised. Tom looked exasperated, as if he thought she was merely a child tampering with things she shouldn't. "Why on earth would you want to time-travel again, Miss Ashford?" Dumbledore asked. "Surely you are quite familiar with the problems inherent in it by now."

"I am," Danielle replied, "But this time I don't want to change anything. I just want to make sure that Georgina has given you the right information, whatever it is, and see if you'll be able to defeat Grindelwald. If not, then I can come back here and we'll figure something else out."

But she could tell that Dumbledore had already made up his mind. "Miss Ashford, time-travel is not to be used on every whim you may have," he said. "We have to trust that the information she provided to me is correct."

"What if it isn't?" Danielle pleaded. "I don't want to sit here for months waiting for you to finally get up the courage to attack Grindelwald—"

For the first time, she saw what looked like anger in Dumbledore's eyes. Tom's own eyes had widened slightly in surprise, and she knew that she had gone too far. Even if it was true, that the wizarding world had been pleading Dumbledore ever since the war started to stop Grindelwald, it was another thing telling him that to his face.

"Miss Ashford, I am afraid the answer is no," Dumbledore said firmly. Although Danielle was still brimming with annoyance, she had no choice but to mutely stand up and leave the office. Tom followed her.

"What was that about?" he asked in a low voice.

"I have a feeling Grindelwald is going to attack Hogwarts in June 1945," Danielle muttered. "The same date he did in my timeline. That means we still have another year of being trapped in the castle. Personally, I don't feel like waiting another year to see if Dumbledore will win this time or not, not when we have the means to check."

"Technically, we do not," Tom pointed out. "He took away your Time-Turner."

She glared at him.

* * *

On their way back down the Grand Staircase, they ran into Georgina coming back from the Great Hall. Suddenly remembering what she had been speaking about with Erik before she'd left, and still feeling sullen, Danielle called Georgina over. Tom, as usual, excused himself and continued down the hallway.

"What is it, Clara?" Georgina asked.

"Erik fancies you," Danielle replied bluntly. She'd expected Georgina to look embarrassed, or annoyed, but instead a truly horrified expression crossed over her face.

" _Erik_?" she gasped, looking aghast. "Did he tell you this?"

Danielle nodded, suddenly feeling as if she shouldn't have spoken. "Why? What's wrong with him?"

Georgina looked as if she was about to be sick. "Thanks for telling me, Clara," she muttered, ignoring the question and sprinted off in the direction of the Grand Staircase. Danielle stood rooted to the spot in shock, watching her disappear.

Skender appeared in front of her moments later. He looked angry when Danielle explained what had happened. "Which way did she go?" he asked.

Mutely, Danielle pointed in the opposite direction. Shooting her an irritated glare, as if Danielle had said that _she'd_ fancied Georgina, he walked off, his tall, intimidating frame disappearing around the corner. She wondered what was so bad about Erik.

Figuring that Tom had gone to the Room of Requirement, Danielle headed back to the Slytherin common room. Luckily Alyssa, Dylan and Alphard weren't there, so she had ample time to think.

Perhaps it was true that she wanted to go into the future when she didn't really _need_ to, but on the other hand, what if Dumbledore lost against Grindelwald and it could have been prevented? It was one thing to have Dumbledore go _meet_ Grindelwald and fight him, as he had done in Danielle's time, but it was quite another to have him and his entire army attack Hogwarts. All Danielle had to do was travel to June 1945 and see who would win…she didn't want to wait with bated breath for another year.

With that thought, she was suddenly surprised at herself. Just a month ago, she'd wanted nothing more than to have a bit of peace and quiet, and now here she was, craving another adventure? What had happened to her?

The common room door swung open and Alyssa tumbled in. "Clara, we're going for a swim in the lake. D'you wanna come along?"

After a moment of deliberation, Danielle quickly shook her head. She didn't want her friends pestering her about why she was acting differently. "No thanks, Lyssa," she said. As her friend turned to leave, she suddenly called out, "Wait! Er…can you tell the others that Tom and I might be gone for the next…while?"

Alyssa frowned. "Sure. Why?"

"Let's just say…we're looking for something," Danielle said hesitantly.

"You mean Ravenclaw's diadem?" Alyssa asked, tactfully lowering her voice.

"No…but it's something that's just as important."

Danielle could tell Alyssa was about to press her on the issue, but Alphard's voice could be heard calling, "Alyssa, come on!" Apparently deciding her boyfriend was more important than Danielle, the redhead gave her a quick smile and disappeared.

When the common room was quiet again, Danielle wasn't sure she had made the right decision, but she knew she had to go through with it. Playing with time was a bit like playing with fire, she knew. It was dangerous, but as long as she didn't get burned…

Now she just needed to find Tom.

* * *

As she ran up to the Room of Requirement, she tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her mind that told her she was about to act on a very, very stupid idea.

When she arrived at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, however, she was faced with another problem: how was she supposed to get in? After pacing in front of it and reciting every variation of "Let me in to where Tom Riddle is staying" that she knew of, and even casting _Reducto_ on the opposite wall like the previous time, there was still no answer.

Danielle whirled around and sprinted away, ignoring the strange glance thrown at her by a passing ghost, and went to the library. She was about to search for books on time-travel when she saw Tom sitting at a table near the Restricted Section. Of course, he'd spotted her as soon as she came in, and abandoned his books to walk over to her.

"I was looking for you!" Danielle cried exasperatedly. "I tried everything and I was ready to give up so I decided to come here and research—"

"Clara, what is it?" he said curtly, interrupting her babbling.

"Can we talk somewhere quieter?" she asked.

Sighing in exasperation, Tom magicked his books back onto the shelves and led her back to the Room of Requirement without a word.

When they were inside, he turned around and looked expectantly at her. "What could possibly be so important?" he asked, with no small amount of derision.

Danielle took a deep breath. Best to get it over with now. "I want to break into Dumbledore's office and steal the Time-Turner," she blurted.

Tom raised an eyebrow, unable, it seemed, to conceal his disbelief. "Clara, what has gotten into you?" he asked. "You are not acting like yourself—"

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" she snapped acerbically. Before he could become angry, she quickly added, "I just want to make sure that Dumbledore can defeat Grindelwald. I don't want to die for nothing."

After a long moment, Tom finally said, "What are you willing to do for me in return?"

"In—in return?" Danielle gasped. "I'll do anything for you, Tom, but I thought you would be fine doing this…you've always wanted to defy Dumbledore, right?"

"Of course I do," Tom replied. "But if I have the opportunity to benefit from it as well, it would be foolish not to take that chance."

Danielle sighed. "What do you want?" she groaned. _I can't believe I'm letting him manipulate me like this. Guess he hasn't changed as much as I hoped he had._

"That depends on what you are willing to do for me," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Danielle wasn't sure if she was imagining his suggestive tone. Shaking her head quickly and looking at a point over his shoulder, she said, "Merlin, Tom, I don't know! Short of murder or torture…what could I possibly do for you?"

His smirk grew wider. "Think of something, Clara," he replied.

Frustrated and impatient, unable to take it any longer, Danielle burst out, "Are you trying to get me to ask you to sleep with you, or something?" She could feel her cheeks burn at the blunt comment, but she forced herself to ignore it and pushed ahead with, "Because I think I've made it quite clear that I _gladly_ would—I mean, who wouldn't?—but if you want me to beg and grovel on my hands and knees for it, you've got another think coming."

Tom pursed his lips as if considering her statement. "As… _charming_ as that was, I must say that I am going to have to decline. If you ever _sleep with me_ , as you so eloquently put it, I would prefer it to be under my own terms rather than because you are bound to a promise you made."

"What do you mean, _under my own terms_?" Danielle demanded. "If we do ever sleep together—" she tried and failed to think about the words themselves rather than their meaning, "—it will be on both of our terms rather than just yours." She paused before muttering, "I can't believe I'm talking about this with you."

"It would have happened eventually," Tom said quietly. He looked amused at her expression. "Really, Clara. You think it can stay like this forever? Do you think either of us will be content with what we have now?"

Danielle's eyes unconsciously flickered over to his bed, an action that was not missed by Tom. "Five minutes ago, you were pleading with me to break into Dumbledore's office. Could this mean you do not want to do it as much as you tried to convince me?" His tone was teasing.

"I _do_ ," Danielle said furiously, tearing her mind from her suddenly overactive imagination, "But you distracted me! Now, listen, I want you, but I have no idea what _you_ want, so—"

"Has it never occurred to you that I want you too, Clara?" Tom asked, his smile disappearing, A hint of a snarl crept into his voice. "You think I have not chased after you all these times out of the… _goodness_ …of my heart?"

Danielle's breath caught in her throat. "You…do?" she choked.

"Of course I do, Clara," Tom said condescendingly. He bent his head until his lips were almost touching hers, drawing her close to him. Danielle's hair tumbled down her back as she tilted her head up to him.

"Well, that's news to me," she said in a slightly breathless voice, and all of a sudden Tom's lips were on hers with a crushing force and his arms wrapped around her so tightly it hurt, but she wasn't feeling the pain. She kissed him back with all her might, inhaling as deeply as she could and trying to preserve the moment.

Tom pulled away first but kept his hands closed around her wrists. "Now," he said, satisfied she wasn't going to put up any resistance, "if you want me to assist you, I insist that you give me the Time-Turner when I ask for it."

"Huh?" Danielle asked, still light-headed. "Why do you want it? Can't you take it from me yourself?"

Tom placed his finger against her lips. "Promise, Clara," he said. After scowling at him (though the effect wasn't quite as intimidating as it might have been) she nodded reluctantly, though she, of course, didn't intend to give it to him. She would have to find some way to hide it when the time came.

He stepped away from her but kept his finger on her lips, surveying her flushed appearance. "So," Danielle said, pulling his hand away, "Did I just agree to sleep with you or what?"

"I believe that decision was made a long time ago," Tom replied, smirking. "Now, as much as I would like this conversation to continue, I must speak to Professor Holstone—which I was preparing to do before you entered the library."

"Holstone?" Danielle repeated. "Why?" She'd been under the impression Tom didn't like the professor.

"It is not important," Tom said slyly. He took a step back and added, "We will go into Dumbledore's office later tonight, when he is asleep."

Danielle nodded and watched him leave. She had the faint urge to follow him, but knew by now that he wouldn't take too kindly to her trotting after him like a lost puppy.

At least he was letting her stay in his room by herself. She gave it a quick once-over, taking in the carefully made bed tucked away in a corner, the empty fireplace, and the desk, now void of any papers or books. No wonder he didn't care if she stayed there or not, Danielle thought sullenly to herself. There was nothing at all private about this room. In fact, it almost reminded her of his room at the orphanage.

Speaking of the orphanage, Danielle remembered that she hadn't written to Billy in quite a while. The prospect of hearing from him again cheered her up, and she left to go to the Owlery, trying her hardest not to think about what she and Tom were planning to do.

* * *

Holstone was sitting at his desk with a flask in front of him, reading a book on the Dark Arts. There was a soft knock at his door and he cleared his throat, setting the flask aside. "Come in," he answered.

The door slowly creaked open and Tom Riddle stepped in. A polite smile crossed his face. "Good afternoon, sir," he said, inclining his head to the professor.

"Same to you, Mr Riddle," Holstone replied. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering how you were," Tom said. He paused before continuing. "I would like to ask your advice on what we were talking about several days ago."

Holstone frowned. "What do you mean, boy?" he boomed. "I haven't spoken to you in weeks!"

There was a glint of triumph in Tom's eyes as he replied, "Never mind, sir. I must be confusing you with someone else." He left quietly, but as soon as the door shut behind him Holstone's own mouth curved upwards in a smirk, and he took another sip from his flask.

* * *

When Danielle reached the Owlery, she was bombarded by hoots from angry owls, upset that someone was disturbing them after they'd had weeks of peace. After she'd spent ten minutes trying to fend them off, and having her arms covered in scratches as a result, she picked her way over to Alistair, who was perched on the window next to a female snowy owl and looking quite pleased with himself.

Danielle stuffed the envelope which held her note in his beak and stroked his head. "Can you bring this to Billy?" she asked.

Alistair hooted and swept off, soon becoming a mere speck amongst the mountains and lochs. Danielle sighed and rested her head against the window, feeling the hot breeze caress her face. She could see several people splashing about in the lake from here; that must be Alyssa, Dylan, and Alphard swimming. She almost wished she had taken Alyssa up on her offer—she knew that her friends were wondering why she was distancing herself from them. To be fair, Danielle hadn't done it on purpose. It was just that she had been so _busy._ Only three people in this time—Dumbledore, Tom, and Georgina—knew who she really was and what she was doing. And she suspected Dumbledore wouldn't be on her side any longer once he knew what she had done.

Danielle's heart felt as heavy as the rest of her body as she slowly trudged out of the Owlery. It occurred to her that there was no point in sending a letter when she wouldn't be able to respond to it for months, but she had felt better writing to Billy.

Tom still hadn't returned when Danielle arrived back into the Room of Requirement. She yawned and stretched out on his bed, feeling a wave of exhaustion. When was the last time she had slept? Had it really been while she was still at the Blacks' cottage?

Judging by the ten seconds it took her to fall asleep, it had.

* * *

Danielle woke up by the sense that someone else was present more than by any external noise. She saw that Tom was sitting on the bed next to her, lost in whatever thoughts were currently occupying him. "Is it dark yet?" she slurred, sitting up and rubbing her aching muscles.

"Yes," he replied. "It is just before midnight."

"Well, it's now or never, then," Danielle said, though she was trying to convince herself as much as Tom. She grabbed her wand and walked over to the door, glancing back at him. "Let's go."

Hogwarts was completely deserted as they walked through the shadowy halls to Dumbledore's office. Danielle's trepidation grew with every step; what if he caught them? After all he had done for her, she was paying him back like _this_?

It seemed as if only seconds had passed when they arrived in front of the door. Tom cast a Disillusionment Charm over them before unlocking the door with a spell that was evidently much stronger than a mere _Alohomora._ Danielle stepped inside first, staring at their shadows warping and twisting on the floor. "Where's the Time-Turner?" she whispered.

Tom walked over to Dumbledore's desk, his fingers closing around the Time-Turner right away. Danielle was suspicious: had Dumbledore not bothered to protect it? But even as the thought crossed her mind, she could feel the magic shimmering around the room, and figured Tom had used more powerful spells than she'd realized.

Silently, Tom walked over to her and handed her the Time-Turner, albeit reluctantly. Danielle could see a flash of red in his eyes as he gave up the object he so desired, but she forced herself to shove that thought into the back of her mind. She could only concentrate on one problem at a time; she would have to find some way to keep him from using it for his own means later.

"Should we go back to the Room of Requirement?" Danielle asked. Tom nodded, and they both hurried out of the room. She couldn't help but feel as if Dumbledore's eyes were watching them as they retraced their footsteps, and she swore she could feel his penetrating stare even when they were safely back inside.

"Thank you," Danielle told Tom sincerely, reaching up to kiss him. He placed a hand on the small of her back and leaned in, but he was perfectly restrained this time. There was no loss of control like earlier that day, and when he pulled away she could see a foreign emotion in his eyes, almost like mingled shock and anger. But just as she opened her mouth to ask him what it was, his eyes were blank again; he'd withdrawn deeper into himself. "Ready?" she asked instead.

He nodded, and she looped the chain around both of their necks, setting it to _10/06/1945_ —the date Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald in her timeline—and, feeling her mouth go dry, took a deep breath before twisting the dial on the Time-Turner one last time.

When the spinning stopped, Danielle couldn't help but feel relieved at the sight of the completely unchanged room. "So what should we do?" she asked aloud. "See if Grindelwald's already attacked Hogwarts? Should we let anyone know we're here?"

"It is up to you, Clara," Tom replied, sounding unusually lenient. Danielle looked suspiciously at him before walking over to the door and yanking it open. The hallway looked identical to how she remembered it—but then again, she supposed it must take much more than a battle for Hogwarts to crumble.

"It's safe!" she told him. But she had barely spoken when a movement from down the hall caught her attention and she was suddenly face-to-face with Albus Dumbledore.

"S—sir!" she exclaimed, wanting nothing more than to hurry back into the Room of Requirement. "I, er—"

"Hello, Clara," Dumbledore replied, unsmiling. "Why don't you and Tom come into my office?" He held out his hand, and Danielle wordlessly gave him the Time-Turner. She could sense Tom behind her, and she could only imagine his anger at the object being taken away. She tried to shoot him an apologetic glance, but he refused to meet her eyes.

Like the last time, there was no one in sight as Dumbledore led them up to his office. Danielle half-wished to run into someone; she was bursting to know what had happened in the months they had been gone.

Dumbledore silently shut the door behind them when they finally arrived, but neither Danielle nor Tom bothered to sit down.

"I must confess that I am very disappointed in both of you," Dumbledore began. Danielle didn't want to meet his eyes, so she looked down instead, at the bowl of sherbet lemons sitting on his desk. It marked the first time he had never offered her one—so that must mean he was extremely upset. She felt as if she had been reduced to the size of a house-elf under his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she began, half-looking over at Tom. His smirk was almost indistinguishable. He inclined his head slightly, mockingly, silently letting her know that she was on her own. "I guess I made a rash decision. Listen, we can go back right now—"

"That will not be necessary, Clara," said Dumbledore. "Grindelwald is attacking tomorrow."

Danielle stopped trying to think up an appropriate apology and stared at him, open-mouthed. " _What?_ "

"You have indeed chosen the correct time," he said, suddenly looking very tired. "However, your arrival means that there are now two more seventeen-year-olds in danger—as you can imagine, it is not the most wonderful notion."

 _Aren't we technically eighteen now_? Danielle thought, but kept her comment to herself. "The professors and I have put up as many protective barriers as we can around Hogwarts, but we have twelve hours at most before he finds a way in," Dumbledore continued. "Aside from that, not much has changed in the months you have been gone. I have told everyone that both of you are assisting me in an important matter outside the castle."

Danielle was sure that wouldn't have gone over well with the others, especially Georgina, but she held her tongue, her embarrassment growing more and more with each word the Transfiguration professor spoke. "Sir, why won't you let us go back to the past?" she burst out. "We can warn you of the exact date—"

"There was no need for that," Dumbledore replied calmly. "I knew of the date already."

Danielle whirled around to Tom, who looked just as shocked as she did. "How—why—" Danielle spluttered. "Does this have to do with what Georgina told you?"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "That is not for you to know, Clara," he said. "However, I regret to inform you that you cannot go back to the past."

"Why not?" Danielle asked, her breath hitching. "The Time-Turner still works—"

"We will need all the help we can get."

* * *

The atmosphere surrounding their departure was very ominous indeed as Danielle and Tom left his office. "What are we going to do now?" Danielle moaned. "This was a stupid mistake. And we didn't even get the Time-Turner!"

Tom, for his part, looked equally as angry. "I have no idea why I even went along with this idea, Clara."

"I don't either," she moaned, putting her head in her hands. "We're going to die tomorrow and it's all my fault. We can't even take the Time-Turner because he'll have it locked up so safely that even you won't be able to get past his wards." She stopped in her tracks, beginning to hyperventilate.

"Hush, Clara," Tom told her. "I will find a way to obtain the Time-Turner."

"No you won't," Danielle moaned. "You'll just use it to travel somewhere yourself and forget about me—"

"Clara, don't be ridiculous," Tom snapped.

"You're right," Danielle replied, her voice shaking. "Dumbledore won't let us go back to the past, I made a stupid mistake, and now we might both be about to die. I've failed. I'm sorry, Tom. I love you. I love you, and this is what I get for it."

Tom stared down at her, his expression unreadable. "I do not," he said, and Danielle was so shocked she stopped crying.

"I don't understand," she continued. "Tom, I screwed up your life. How do you—" But he silenced her by roughly pushing her into the wall and kissing her until she was literally breathless, his eyes more intent than she had ever seen them. "Neither of us is going to die, Clara," he told her, and his voice turned savage. "I will make sure of it."

They continued in silence to the Great Hall, Danielle still feeling shaken, where everyone was seated at the table eating dinner. Alyssa was the first to break from the group and sprint to the front of the room with a joyful cry of "CLARA!" Danielle was nearly thrown to the ground as the short redhead threw her arms around her with all the strength she had.

As soon as Alyssa let go of her, her blue eyes narrowed into slits and she seemed about to point an accusing finger at Danielle; she was inexplicably reminded of her mother lecturing her when she'd done something wrong as a child. "Where. Have. You. _Been_?" she shrieked, her voice so piercing Danielle was sure it could wake a Petrified person just as effectively as a Mandrake could. "It's been a bloody YEAR, and all Dumbledore could tell us was that you and Tom were off doing something for him!"

"It's, er, a bit of a long story, Lyssa," Danielle said in a smaller voice, trying to pacify her. She caught sight of Dylan and Alphard from over Alyssa's head, and shot them a pointed look.

"She'll explain it in a bit," Alphard called back to her lazily. Alyssa grabbed Danielle's wrist and dragged her over to the table, where Dylan was the first to hug her, followed by Alphard, Skender, Erik, and finally Georgina, who whispered in her ear, "I demand a _full_ explanation from you later."

Of course, no one hugged Tom as they had hugged Danielle; Georgina was the first one to offer a hand to him. "Riddle," she said curtly, struggling to control her grin.

"Miss Taylor," he replied. "I see you are still outspoken as ever."

"I sense a bit of disappointment in there," Georgina teased.

"Of course not," Tom answered, completely deadpan. "I sorely missed your biting wit."

Childishly, Georgina stuck her tongue out at him, and Danielle laughed. Alphard was the next to offer his hand to Riddle, and even Alyssa grinned at him. The atmosphere was cautiously relaxed, but Danielle could sense tension in the air—did they know what was going to happen the next day?

When Alyssa reached forward for her goblet, Danielle gasped, "Are you wearing a _ring?_ "

She hadn't noticed the diamond sparkling on her friend's finger until then. Alphard and Alyssa smiled fondly at each other and Alyssa answered, "Yes, he proposed to me at Christmas. We're getting married this winter if we get out of this war alive."

"What about you and Felicity?" Danielle asked, glancing over at Dylan.

"Same as usual," he said gloomily. "I think she's beginning to suspect something is off with me. Of course I can't tell her the truth." He took a sip of pumpkin juice, looking disheartened. At the same time, Danielle noticed Georgina lean her head against Skender's shoulder, and wondered if their time in Nurmengard had brought them closer together than she'd thought.

The night wore on and soon midnight was upon them, but they were all still chattering nervously. The professors hadn't even given them a hard time about being awake after hours; Danielle suspected they were just as worried as the students were. There was something different in the air that everyone could sense, even if they didn't exactly know what it was.

So quietly that even Alyssa, who was sitting next to her, couldn't hear, Tom whispered, "Come to bed," in Danielle's ear, and got up to leave. Her heart kicked up a notch, and she was left staring after him, blood rushing through her veins, suddenly electrified.

* * *

While he waited for Clara to arrive, Tom paced around the Room of Requirement, not sure how he should feel. He could die tomorrow, and instead of making a Horcrux to ensure his survival he was thinking about Clara like a fool. She had ruined all of his carefully constructed plans. She had ruined him.

He should loathe her, but he didn't. He should kill her, but he couldn't.

He had just spent the past eight months with her almost constantly by his side, and now when he was finally alone, just as he had always craved, he wanted her still there. He wanted her by his side all the time.

Tom stared at the opposite wall, clenching his jaw and thinking that Fate must be a woman, or else his life wouldn't be as cruelly ironic as it was. But, he supposed, part of it was his own error, for letting himself get too close to her…he should have known it. When they had gotten stuck in the air-raid at Vauxhall Orphanage after she'd tried to rescue a damned _puppy_ , he should have known then. But he'd been foolish. And it had cost him.

Tom suddenly whirled around and cast a non-verbal Summoning Charm. The Box of Desire came hurtling out the hidden compartment in the wall where it had been kept safely hidden and landed lightly in his hand. He should have known the first time he'd looked at the cursed thing. Flipping open the box, he stared down at Clara's reflection and tossed it aside. The mirror shattered into pieces, but he hardly glanced at it.

Raising his wand, he muttered, _"Expecto Patronum_!" The first time he had ever attempted to cast the Patronus Charm, on the train, had resulted in nothing. He'd become frustrated and had often tried since, but though he'd gotten a few wisps of mist he had never been able to produce a corporeal Patronus.

Now, though…Tom watched in shock as a glittering silver snake burst from his wand and slithered around him. He smiled in triumph as he reveled in finally mastering the spell.

But once the snake had faded, leaving the room dark again, his smile disappeared as well when he reflected on just what—or _who_ —had been the memory to enable him to cast it.

"Damn you, Clara," he muttered, but there was no rage in his voice. Tom Riddle stared into the depths of the fireplace as he finally accepted what he had known unconsciously for a very long time.

* * *

When Danielle returned to the Room of Requirement, she discovered Tom sitting on the bed again, his back to her. Danielle was about to speak first, but he interrupted before she could get a word out, suddenly turning to face her. "Clara, I understand what you meant," he told her, and he sounded almost… _hesitant_?

"About what?" Danielle asked, completely baffled. What had she ever said that he hadn't understood?

"What you said to me last year. About love."

There was a long silence as Danielle stared at him in shock, not bothering to hide her amazement. "You…you do?" she asked in a strangled tone.

Tom nodded, and before she could react, he was on his feet and striding toward her, pushing her against the wall. His lips crashed down onto hers, and he kissed her with such a fury that she couldn't have resisted even if she'd wanted to.

"So…" Danielle managed to gasp when he moved his mouth to her jaw, "You're…in…love…with…me?"

Tom took his lips off her jaw and regarded her, his eyes burning a bright blue. "What does it _look_ like, you ridiculous girl?"

Danielle laughed, her heart kicking up into a sprint. "I…I can't believe it," she said. "After all this time…"

Tom, however, didn't seem to be in the mood for speaking. He kissed her again, effectively cutting off all forms of speech. As their kiss became more urgent and heated, Danielle couldn't help but giggle, feeling a surge of giddiness. This was what she'd wanted for the past two years.

And this time, they wouldn't be disturbed.


	41. Battle for Hogwarts

Danielle didn't care if this wasn't right, if this wasn't proper, if she was only eighteen and unmarried. She had no idea if either of them would die tomorrow and she didn't want to live without experiencing this.

So she let herself love this pale, beautiful, irreparably broken boy. But Tom's curse didn't matter now: they were here and they were together, as close as two separate human beings could get. Grindelwald couldn't destroy this; Voldemort couldn't destroy this. It was as if they were mocking Death itself, showing it how _alive_ they both were. Even if they were both dead in twenty-four hours, this moment would still have existed, stretching out through eternity.

She was the first to speak, hours later. "I'm going to stay and fight. If I die, at least it will be while I'm fighting Grindelwald."

"That is not very Slytherin of you, Clara," Tom said with a perfectly straight face.

"It doesn't matter," she told him. "I'm not a true Slytherin anyway…"

"The Sorting Hat would not have placed you there if you did not have some of the House qualities," Tom said, a tiny smirk playing on his lips.

"It said that I was a different person in 1942 than I was in 2011," Danielle mused. "I still don't know what it meant by that."

"I think you do," Tom said. At Danielle's puzzled look, he smiled, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "You are a Slytherin," he told her. "You would not have survived this long if you were not."

"You think you know me," Danielle teased.

"Of course I do," Tom whispered, and she kissed him again, for once forgetting about everything else.

* * *

Danielle eventually managed to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, Tom's arms still around her.

She woke to an empty bed, her hands reaching for nothing. Sleepily, she blinked her eyes open and saw that he was already awake, sitting at his desk and holding one of the broken pieces of what had once been the Box of Desire. She briefly wondered what had happened to it, but just as quickly decided that she probably didn't want to know.

"Awake already?" Danielle asked him, rolling over so she could grab her watch off the desk; it was almost seven o'clock.

"Everyone has gathered in the Great Hall," Tom said, still not looking up from the mirror. "It is probably a wise idea to join them."

Danielle nodded and Summoned her robes over to her, where she hopped out of bed and quickly dressed, ironing out the wrinkles in the fabric before walking over to Tom. She placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"What is it?" she asked him, slightly cross that he was in one of _those_ moods again.

Tom didn't respond, but after a short pause, Danielle tried again: "Are—are you nervous?"

Now he turned around and looked directly at her. "About what?" he asked, a hint of derisiveness in his voice.

"About today," Danielle replied.

"There is nothing to be nervous about," Tom said. "I am not afraid of Grindelwald."

"But I am."

"Then stay here," he said curtly, shrugging her hand away before walking over to the door. Danielle followed him, and she couldn't help but feel annoyed at his attitude, even if she should be used to his strange tempers by now. But a part of her couldn't help but wonder if he _was_ nervous.

* * *

The halls were almost eerily quiet, the portraits barely moving; the castle itself seemed to be readying for battle. This did nothing to calm Danielle's already frayed nerves.

Just before they reached the Great Hall, Tom put his hand on Danielle's waist, as if he was finally ready to publicly display their relationship. She couldn't help but smile as they walked into the room, feeling suddenly comforted.

Alyssa, Alphard, Dylan, Erik, Georgina, and Skender were all gathered in the Great Hall, looking confused. "Dippet called us here at five in the morning," Alyssa said as soon as Danielle came within earshot. "D'you know what it's all about?"

"You mean you don't?" Danielle asked, before realizing she'd said the wrong thing. Dippet must not have told the others that Grindelwald was planning to attack that day.

Alyssa's blue eyes narrowed instantly; she placed her hands on her narrow hips and stared at Danielle. On her other side, Alphard glanced down to see what the trouble was about. "Uh-oh, what happened now?" he joked, trying to make light of the situation.

"Nothing," Danielle said, trying to look away from Alyssa. It didn't work.

"Come on, what does Dippet want to talk to us about?" she demanded. "We've been standing here for hours!"

"I should hope you would have figured out the answer, Miss MacDougal," Tom interjected. "It seems as if there is only one obvious reason."

Alyssa turned her steely glare onto Tom. "Grindelwald?" she asked, and Danielle nodded. "How did you know?"

Danielle and Tom shared a glance. "Let's just say we overheard something," Danielle answered.

Alyssa sighed, her shoulders slumping. All the fight seemed to go out of her. "Something had to give eventually, I s'pose. I mean, as great as Hogwarts is, we've been stuck here for over a year."

"If I may have your attention," Dippet began, and thankfully Alyssa turned back to the front. "Now, the reason all of you have chosen to stay here presumably is to aid Hogwarts in her time of need. That time, it seems, will be later today."

Danielle, Tom, Alyssa, and Georgina were the only ones to look unsurprised. Alphard, Dylan, and Skender all exchanged anxious looks, while Erik looked downright nauseous. His face immediately turned a bright shade of pink and his eyes doubled to twice their normal size. Danielle watched him closely, feeling a pang of pity. He hadn't asked for this—he had no choice but to stay and fight.

"When is Grindelwald attacking?" Dylan asked.

"We don't know for sure—however, we have it on good authority that it will be today," Dumbledore replied. "I trust you all remember what you learned in your Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons and Dueling Club."

"Sir, how exactly do you know that he's going to attack today?" Alphard asked. "Maybe it was a mistake…"

"There is no mistake, Mr Black," Dumbledore said. "Trust me on this one."

Danielle looked over at Georgina, who had a steely glint in her eyes. Could that be part of what she had told Dumbledore? If he now knew the exact date of Grindelwald's attack, perhaps he would have been able to prepare, thus giving them an advantage. Since Grindelwald had waited so long to strike, he probably thought that Hogwarts had let its guard down and it would be easy to conquer.

"So what are we supposed to do?" Skender asked.

"We will not force you to fight; you may hide if you wish," Dumbledore answered. "However, you are more than welcome to stay."

"Is there anyone who would _not_ like to fight?" Dippet wheezed. "Professor Slughorn will show you a safe place we have created if you do not."

Alyssa made to step forward, but Alphard whispered something in her ear and she stilled. Considering how ill he was currently looking, Danielle expected Erik to stand, but he stayed rooted in his seat.

There was a look of unbridled relief on Dumbledore's face when nobody stepped forward. "Very well, then," he said. "Now, we don't know exactly when he will attack, but—"

All of a sudden, there was a low rumbling from under their feet, as if an earthquake was taking place. But that was impossible, Danielle thought, Hogwarts was surely protected from natural disasters like that—

It was her last coherent thought before the world exploded around her.

She didn't even have time to scream before she was blasted from her seat, flying through the air and landing some ten feet away from the table. The sound of the explosion temporarily deafened her, and she could still feel the aftershocks even after the initial blast had stopped.

Danielle tried to get to her feet, but a sharp pain in her leg stopped her: she glanced down and saw that a jagged cut had ripped open her robes and dark blood was trickling down her side. She quickly wiped it away, ignoring it when she continued to bleed: she had more pressing things on her mind.

When she'd recovered enough to examine her surroundings, she glanced around, expecting the room to be devastated—but she was, instead, shocked.

The Great Hall looked untouched, despite an explosion just having occurred, and was completely empty. Shakily, Danielle pulled herself up and called, "Hello?"

There was no answer. "Tom? Professor Dumbledore?" she continued, but the only answer was her own echo. " _Homenum revelio_!" she finally cried, raising her wand, but nothing happened.

Was she the only one left?

Feeling the stirrings of panic beginning to rise up in her chest, she ran into the Entrance Hall. The only sound was the pounding of her footsteps—but then Danielle caught sight of a crumpled form near the Grand Staircase. Heart in her throat, she sprinted toward it—only to stop with a gasp of horror when she saw it was Tom. He was lying perfectly still, his eyes closed as if he was merely sleeping, but there was no rise and fall to his chest.

"No!" Danielle shrieked, unable to believe it. She fell to her knees beside him, but just as she reached out to grab his hand, his body disappeared—and something was suddenly choking her, crushing her throat so tightly she couldn't breathe. It felt as if her chest was constricted and she couldn't get enough air. Gulping and gasping, she tried to move but was frozen in her spot.

An unearthly mist was beginning to cloud her vision. Struggling, still trying to pull the invisible hands away, Danielle blinked furiously, in hopes her vision would clear. She felt very cold, and her stomach roiled as if she was about to be sick.

Just as she was about to surrender to the mist, a sharp tug at her head jerked her back to her senses, and it disappeared, leaving no trace of its sudden presence behind. The pressure on her throat lessened, and Danielle found herself staring at a very _alive_ Tom. "I thought you were dead!" she cried, throwing her arms around him, barely able to suppress a sob.

But Tom firmly grabbed her arms and pushed her away from him. "Metusa," he said, and Danielle understood—why hadn't she paid more attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts?

"What did you see?" she asked, but he didn't answer. "Where's everyone else?" she continued after waiting for his answer, trying not to show how frightened the Metusa had made her.

"I do not know," Tom replied. "Just go back to the Room of Requirement—"

"I'm staying to fight," Danielle protested.

" _Clara_ ," he said in that long-suffering tone that made her feel as if he was talking to a child.

"Stop trying to be a control freak! You can't force me to do anything!" cried Danielle. "You just don't think I'm strong enough to defend myself, do you?"

His lack of a response was answer enough for her. She narrowed her eyes at him and spun around on her heel, running up the Grand Staircase. She would show him that she was more than competent—she didn't need to be kept locked up all the time.

Tom didn't pursue her, and it was only when she reached the second floor that she heard a loud bang and an angry voice yelling. Danielle immediately doubled back, regretting her decision, when a jet of green light was suddenly thrown at her and she dove out of the way to avoid it. She peered over the staircase railing to see an unfamiliar wizard glaring up at her, his teeth bared in an unmistakeable grimace.

"Need help?" a familiar voice asked from beside her. Before Danielle could answer, Georgina sent a Stunning Spell flying at the wizard. Although he deflected it, he'd failed to notice Alyssa running up the stairs behind him and crumpled as she delivered the final blow. The redhead grinned, giving them the thumbs-up before disappearing through another door.

"Where's Tom?" Georgina asked as Danielle sent a Jelly-Legs Jinx at another man who had appeared in his unconscious comrade's place.

"In the Entrance Hall," Danielle replied, ducking as an unfamiliar yellow curse smashed into one of the portraits next to them. "Where's Skender?"

"On the fourth floor," Georgina said. "How did they get in? They must have known the secret passageways beforehand."

The only logical way that could have happened was if someone had told them where the passageways _were_ , but Danielle didn't want to dwell on that at the moment. She concentrated on defending herself, making sure her Shield Charm was still intact and occasionally sending curses at approaching enemies.

"We can deal with them now, but there are thousands of men," Georgina gasped after a curse hit her in the arm. She shook her robes back over the wound, but Danielle could see it was bleeding quite badly. "We can't win—"

"Don't think like that!" Danielle said firmly, though Georgina was unfortunately correct. "You need to go to the hospital wing."

"And leave us without one more fighter?" Georgina said, displaying all the fearlessness of a Gryffindor. "No way!"

"Have it your way, then," Danielle said uncertainly, and the issue was dropped as she concentrated on blocking yet another Killing Curse heading her way.

As soon as one enemy was down, another one would jump up to take their place. Danielle had no idea where the others were, but she could hear distant yells and screeches coming from different floors. It sounded like the battle in the Entrance Hall was still waging, and she couldn't help but feel proud of Tom for putting up such a fight.

"Clara, can you help—" Georgina suddenly gasped. Danielle whirled around to see a curse hit Georgina right in the chest, and she fell backwards, unconscious. Danielle immediately tried to revive her, but it was to no avail: whatever curse she had been hurt with had been powerful. She quickly spun back around to see that another wizard had snuck up on them from behind. Just as Danielle raised her wand to cast a spell at him, he immediately turned around and ran back down to the Entrance Hall. Stunned, Danielle got up and ran after him, wondering if this was some sort of trap.

But when she emerged into the Entrance Hall she had to suppress a cry of disbelief as she saw what had happened: a circle of guards were surrounding the room, blocking all exits. There had to be at least a hundred of them, not counting the thousands that were probably still prowling the castle.

But that wasn't what shocked Danielle most: the guards had formed a circle in the middle of the room, leaving a space where she saw that Tom was standing across from a tall, handsome man. Instead of wearing black robes like the guards, he was wearing a golden robe that that reached his feet and was the same colour as his hair, which tumbled freely down to his shoulders.

Danielle instinctively knew who he was, and she murmured, " _Grindelwald_." She'd always pictured him as an old, wizened man, but of course that couldn't be true, since he was the same age as Dumbledore. She just hadn't expected him to be so…good-looking. Then again, that was probably what had made him charm all of his followers to him…

Tom and Grindelwald were slowly circling each other, and Danielle could feel the Dark Magic lingering in the air, almost choking her. The air felt heavy and thick, similar to the oppressive humidity before a thunderstorm. Danielle's feet felt rooted to the spot as she prayed that nobody would spot her. Luckily, the men seemed too intent on the confrontation between the two most powerful Dark Wizards of all time to concentrate on her.

"You are powerful, boy," Grindelwald was saying, his thick accent somehow only adding to his charm. "Why do you insist on fighting with Dumbledore when you detest him? Join me, and we can conquer the entire world."

"I do not need you," Tom hissed, and the barest hint of a smile crossed Grindelwald's lips.

"Don't you?" he repeated, sounding amused. Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a small gold tiara, emblazoned with a sapphire.

The diadem.

Tom froze, and Grindelwald's sneer grew wider. "Yes, you have wanted this for a long time, haven't you?"

Quick as a flash, he drew his wand and moved it in a slashing motion in the air in front of them, creating a gold shield that encased the diadem. "Don't think you'll be able to get it that quickly," he told Tom.

"And if I do join you?" Tom asked in a very quiet voice. Danielle couldn't see his face, but she knew how much he wanted the diadem, and perhaps he did admire Grindelwald in some way—

"Don't!" she tried to yell to him, but it was no use: the burly guard that had nearly attacked her grabbed her by the arms and yanked her back, not even bothering to use magic as he shoved her away from the confrontation, past the still-unconscious Georgina and into an abandoned classroom. Snatching the wand out of her hand, he sneered at her before slamming the door shut.

Danielle ran to the door and tried to open it, but it was firmly locked and she was powerless without her wand. The only small window let in a minimal amount of light and it was hardly big enough for her to climb through, let alone jump outside. She felt like a Muggle, unable to get herself out of a simple situation.

"HELP!" she screamed instead, but there was no answer and no noise from outside. The guard must have cast a Silencing Charm so she couldn't hear what was going on, nor could anyone hear her. Of course, she knew that Tom wouldn't join Grindelwald… he was too arrogant, even though the other wizard was extremely powerful. But now that the Grindelwald had the diadem, Danielle knew Tom would go to extreme lengths to obtain it.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed there, hoping someone would come and rescue her, when the door finally creaked open. Danielle got to her feet and rushed toward the light, but it was closed just as quickly. It took her eyes several seconds to adjust to the sudden brightness, and when they did she gasped in surprise. "Erik?" she asked. He was holding a glass of water in his hand.

"I thought you might need this," he said quietly. "I heard that one guard bragging about how he'd put you in here."

Danielle grabbed the cup from his hands and drank it without hesitation. It soothed her parched throat, and she smiled gratefully at him. "What's it like out there?" she asked. "Is it safe?"

"Dumbledore is dueling Grindelwald now," Erik replied. He sounded more confident than Danielle had ever heard him. "Everyone is in the Great Hall."

"How many guards are there?" Danielle asked.

Erik shrugged. "I haven't counted. Not as many as everyone predicted there would be—maybe a couple hundred? It looks like Dumbledore was wrong." There was an edge to his voice Danielle had never heard.

Her vision blurred slightly, and she quickly shook her head to clear her brain and she asked, "We should go see them—"

"We can't do that, Clara." Erik shook his head, and there was a smirk on his face the likes of which she had never seen before.

Danielle tried to think of why that might be, but her thoughts had become slightly jumbled. "Huh?" she asked. "Why not?"

"You'll see in a minute," said Erik. Danielle opened her mouth to press him, but a wave of dizziness engulfed her and she stumbled to the side, grabbing onto the wall for support.

"Did you—what was in that drink?" she asked.

"Strychnine," Erik replied nonchalantly, as if they were merely talking about what they had eaten for breakfast. "You should only last about half an hour if you're lucky."

"You poisoned me?" Danielle gasped. Her eyes began to burn, and she sank to the ground, rubbing frantically at them. The pounding in her head was growing, and her limbs felt weak, as if her muscles had given out.

"Good guess," Erik said sarcastically. He knelt down beside her, a malicious amusement in his eyes.

"But…but…why? I thought we were friends," Danielle gasped. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a sneering voice rang out, _Poison has always been my preference of choice._ Her hazy brain struggled to put the pieces together.

"You were too preoccupied with Skender Bardhi to notice me—poor, awkward little Erik Dahl," the boy laughed. "All I had to do was put on an innocent act and you all fell right into my trap."

Erik had been the guard at Nurmengard. That explained how he had known their names…"You're Grindelwald's spy," Danielle breathed. "It wasn't Skender…"

"I am more than just a spy," Erik told her. "I am his son."

While Danielle breathed raggedly in shock, staring up at him—that blond hair and those bright eyes that did indeed resemble Grindelwald's— he explained, "My mother was a Swedish woman—her last name was Dahl—and she raised me for the first fifteen years of my life. She taught me Potions, and I was able to kill anyone I wished just by mixing a few chemicals together when I was a boy. Unfortunately, she was killed when my father's army conquered Sweden, and he sent me to Hogwarts."

"There were some things that weren't right about you," Danielle whispered. "You were good at dueling…and when Georgina tried to tell me how to defeat Grindelwald you interrupted…"

Erik nodded. "I've reported on the secret passageways and everyone in the school since I came here. I let the Metusas into the Great Hall this morning. While everyone was preoccupied with them, my father and his army stormed into the school. It worked perfectly, if I do say so myself."

"You won't win," Danielle said, and was terrified at how weak her voice sounded. "Dumbledore—"

"—Is too blinded by his childhood love for my father to truly harm him," Erik said maliciously. "What else can stop him? A few professors and schoolchildren? I'm doing you a favour by killing you this way."

Danielle's mouth was dry, and she struggled to speak through her suddenly heavy tongue, but no words came out. Through her half-blind eyes, she saw Erik get up and stride out of the room, leaving her to die by herself.

This was it. She had trusted the wrong person, and this was what she got for it. If only she had been a bit less trusting of Erik and more trusting of Skender, things could have turned out differently…it was all her fault. She was stubborn and arrogant, and it had cost her.

Dimly, she saw the door open again and she mentally prepared for Erik to come back in, but this time she saw Tom. By now she could barely move, the poison clogging up her veins. Her eyes began to close of their one accord, her eyelids too weak to stay open. "'S Erik," she managed to slur. "He's the spy. Not…Skender."

"Clara, _open your eyes_! _"_ Tom insisted, and she thought she heard fear in his voice. It was strange, his normally calm demeanor giving way to actual human emotion. It gave Danielle a bit of happiness, knowing it was her who had caused it.

"I can't," she said. The poison had almost claimed her. She couldn't move even if she had wanted to.

"Yes, you can," Tom replied. She felt his cool touch on her skin, pulling her hair away from her face. "Damn it, Clara, you are _not—_ "

"I'm sorry," she said weakly, wishing she could see him. "I love you."

Now he'd begun to shake her, forcing her broken body to move. "It's no use, Tom," Danielle breathed. "He poisoned me."

"I will kill him," he snarled.

"You can't…stay with me instead. Please." She wanted to spend her last moments with him.

But instead, she felt arms encircle her and she was lifted off the ground. "Tom, don't," she complained.

"I am not going to let you die, Clara."

"You have to. He wants you to come after him." Danielle could feel her head against his shoulders, and comforted herself with listening to his heartbeat against her back.

The dizziness in her head grew to an agonizing crescendo, and she heard Erik laughing in the distance—or he could have been standing next to them, since everything now sounded like she was hearing it through a distant tunnel.

There was a sudden bang next to her ear and Tom let go of her—Danielle heard rather than felt her head smash against the ground. The sound rang in her ears long after her other senses had disappeared.


	42. Memento Mori

Dumbledore had called everyone into the Great Hall after an hour of fighting. After finding Dylan and Alphard, Alyssa brought them down to the Hall, where they found out that they were the only students to show up. Tom, Erik, Clara, Georgina, and Skender were all nowhere to be seen, and none of the professors seemed to know where they were. The last she'd seen of Tom, he had seemed about to duel with Grindelwald, but when Dumbledore had intervened he'd immediately disappeared.

Alyssa had no idea what was going on the Entrance Hall, since they were trapped in the Great Hall with the rest of the professors. She felt safer knowing that the teachers were with them, but she was still worried for Clara.

Leaning into Alphard's embrace, she whispered up to him, "I hope the others are all right."

"Knowing Riddle, they're probably halfway across the country by now," her fiancé said back to her, his brown eyes still retaining a trace of good humour, even in their current situation. "I wouldn't worry about it, Lyssa."

She tried to take some comfort in his words, but she couldn't hide her worry completely. Dylan was sitting next to her, his head in his hands. Alyssa figured he was probably wondering whether he would ever get to see Felicity again. She disapproved of him falling in love with a Muggle—she couldn't deny that her parents' pureblood mania had been more ingrained on her than they had been with her twin—but she sincerely did hope things would work out between her brother and the quiet Muggle girl.

The doors of the Great Hall slowly creaked open, and all the professors immediately raised their wands, prepared to defend themselves. But, to everyone's shock, they saw it was only Dumbledore. His tense expression was mirrored in everyone else's. "Grindelwald and his army have disappeared," he announced.

"You mean they have retreated?" asked Holstone.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I am afraid it is not that simple. I won the duel, but I do not expect Gellert to give up so easily. But…" here he pulled out a golden tiara, "I did manage to obtain the diadem, an artifact which rightly belongs at Hogwarts—"

There was a sudden yell from the doorway and Dumbledore turned to see Skender run into the room, a wild look on his face. "I don't know what's wrong with Georgina!" he exclaimed. "She's not dead, but I can't revive her!"

Everyone immediately stood up in concern and Skender led them to the Grand Staircase, where Georgina's prone body lay on the floor, her breathing shallow. While the professors tended to her, Alyssa's gaze was caught by a half-open door not far from where Georgina lay. She went over to it and gasped when she saw the outline of another body lying near the door.

"Alphard!" she called, and he was by her side in an instant, Dylan not far behind him. Alyssa dropped to her knees next to Clara's body and felt for a pulse. She looked even worse than she had when she'd collapsed during the dance. She was completely still, and her face looked as if it was starting to turn gray. Her skin felt rubbery and cold, as if she had been like this for quite some time.

"Is she dead?" Alphard asked, looking just as worried as Alyssa felt.

"I don't know," she replied shakily. "But—" her face suddenly lit up, "—The diadem has healing powers! It can heal her!"

"I'm not sure if it can heal someone who's already dead," Dylan said doubtfully.

"She's not dead!" Alyssa exclaimed, though Clara's appearance and lack of obvious pulse suggested otherwise. "I'll get Dumbledore—" And she got to her feet, sprinting out of the room and over to where Dumbledore was speaking quietly to Merrythought. "Sir," she gasped. "Clara's ill. I think using the diadem is our only hope."

Dumbledore immediately stopped his conversation, and Alyssa detected a flicker of worry in his eyes. "Where is she?" he asked, and Alyssa led him back into the classroom where Alphard and Dylan were now both examining Clara.

"She's gone," Dylan said quietly. "I'm sorry, Lyssa."

"She can't be dead!" Alyssa said furiously. She was not about to lose her best female friend. What would Tom do when he found out? Speaking of which, where _was_ he?

Dumbledore's expression was very grave indeed as he ran his hands over Clara's arms, whispering healing spells. But when this proved fruitless, he looked up, and Alyssa was taken aback to see tears sparkling in his bright blue eyes. "She has been poisoned," he announced. "It might be too late to save her."

"Who poisoned her?" Alphard asked, but Alyssa interrupted, "We should try it anyway!"

Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out Ravenclaw's diadem. Alyssa all but snatched it out of his grasp and pressed it into Clara's cold, clammy hand, hoping it would work and she still had some remaining life in her.

The four of them waited for an agonizingly long time before Alyssa saw it: a slight patch of colour in her cheeks. "I think it's working!" she exclaimed. "Professor, do you see that?"

"I do," Dumbledore replied. "We must have intervened just in time. Perhaps she had only seconds left."

It wasn't long before Clara's eyes fluttered open, and her eyes focused weakly on Alyssa and the boys before flickering over to Dumbledore. Confusion lined her face as she looked first at him, and then at the gold tiara clutched in her right hand. "What…happened?" she asked, her voice thick and croaking, as if she hadn't used it in a long time.

"You were nearly dead," Alyssa said. "We gave you the diadem just in time."

"The diadem…" Clara breathed, and looked in awe at the jewel in her hand. "It saved _me_." She gave a weak chuckle, as if there was something ironic about the whole situation.

"Who poisoned you?" Alphard asked urgently.

A shadow crossed over Clara's face. "Erik," she said, and there were three simultaneous gasps. Only Dumbledore remained calm, though there was surprise evident on his face.

"Why would he do that?" he asked calmly.

"He's….he's Grindelwald's son," Clara said, earning another round of gasps. "He's been sending information about the castle to Grindelwald all year. When I caused trouble for his men, he brought me into here so he could personally kill me. But Tom went after him…"

"Merlin, that's the second time you've nearly died in the past year," Dylan said, trying to lighten the mood. "Fate must have some sort of vendetta against you."

"You're telling me," Clara said wryly, but she just as quickly turned serious as she asked, "Where's Tom?"

"We don't know," Alyssa replied. "Erik is gone as well—"

A shadow crossed Clara's face, and she got to her feet. "I need to find him," she said urgently. "Can I take the diadem with me?" She cast a pleading glance at Dumbledore, who nodded.

"Be careful, Miss Ashford," he warned her. "Erik might have disappeared along with his father. They might be planning to keep us trapped in here for years, though knowing Gellert, that is probably very unlikely…he has waited long enough; he will want to finish things as quickly as possible."

Clara nodded, and began to leave the room, but paused before she enveloped Alyssa in a tight hug. "Thank you," she whispered, sounding almost tearful. "I'm sorry if I've been acting strange lately."

"Don't worry about it, Clara," Alyssa replied, smiling at her friend. "I'm just glad you're safe."

Clara hugged Alphard and Dylan as well before running out of the room. Dumbledore soon left as well. Alyssa grabbed Alphard's hand and led him out of the room, Dylan following behind them. The professors were all still tending to Georgina—but just as they reached the main group, there was a loud explosion that literally rattled the portraits on the walls, and a huge burst of magic came rushing toward them, so bright everyone had to shut their eyes against the oncoming storm.

Dumbledore was the only one who managed to stand up, the only one who raised his wand and managed to stop the black darkness that seemed to have swallowed up everything in its path. He was holding it at bay, that inky blackness that seemed to stretch from all directions—and Alyssa felt fear such as she had never known course through her entire being. Somehow, she knew that the darkness would do much worse than kill them.

Grindelwald had returned.

* * *

Danielle sprinted through the halls, calling out for Tom. She had no idea where he and Erik could have gone—had the boy run away and Tom tried to follow him?

Just as she rounded the corner that led to the Room of Requirement, she nearly tripped over something that was lying on the floor. Danielle felt her heart skip a beat as she took in the limp form of Erik. Her wand was tucked in his robes, and she quickly snatched it, breathing a sigh of relief. He was sprawled across the floor, still-bleeding gashes strewn over his body and clothes. She could recognize the traces of the _Sectumsempra_ curse right away, and winced. She should have known Tom would try that one someday. But judging by his wide, blank eyes, and his complete lack of anything that might lead one to conclude he was alive, she was sure that Tom had also killed him. Danielle couldn't help but wonder if he had let Erik bleed to death, or had eventually used the Killing Curse on him.

But her relief at seeing Erik dead was overshadowed by the appearance of a shadowy figure at the end of the corridor. Danielle pulled herself to her full height, shakily drawing out her wand and pointing it at Tom. She could see his eyes were blood-red even at this distance.

But some invisible force knocked her wand out of her hand and forced her to the ground so that she was kneeling before Tom, who was walking before her. " _Imposter_ ," he snarled.

It took Danielle a moment to understand why he would say that—he must think her dead. "No—the diadem saved me," she gasped. "Tom, it's me! Look…" She pulled out the diadem with her trembling hands, feeling its power course through her skin. Before he could react, she forced it into his own hand, praying that they hadn't come so far only to be defeated.

At first Tom showed no reaction—but then his eyes began to blur and unfocus, the red losing some of its sheen. Danielle watched with bated breath as he began to cough, doubling over and sinking to the ground. The diadem slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground, but she could see his eyes were still very much a crimson shade and his breathing sounded worse than ever. Finally he collapsed, unable, it seemed, to recover.

After staring blankly at him for a moment, Danielle got to her feet and ran back down the hallway, her heart pounding with each step as she flew up the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room.

"Until I am measured, I am not known, but how you will miss me when I have flown. What am I?" the knocker asked her.

"Er—I don't have time to think about this—" Danielle began to say frantically, but her face lit up. "Time!" she called.

"Correct," said the knocker, and the door swung open to let her inside.

"Helena Ravenclaw?" Danielle asked once the door had shut again, spinning around and staring up at the ceiling as if that could somehow summon the ghost to her. "Are you here?"

Several seconds passed, and she was just about to call again when a pearly-white figure drifted down from the dormitories. "You are Clara Ashford, correct?" Helena asked, slightly coldly. "I have not seen you for two years. What is bringing you here today? Shouldn't you be downstairs guarding the school?"

"Listen—we have the diadem, and I gave it to Tom to cure his curse, but I think it ended up killing him instead!" Danielle gasped. "Please, you have to help me!"

Helena's demeanor changed at once, her normally hard expression smoothing out into something that was almost concern. "How did you find it?" she asked.

"I'll explain later—we have to go!" Danielle cried, rushing back out of the room. This time the ghost followed her, and she raced back through the hallways in the same way that she had come, not looking back to see if Helena was still behind her. She couldn't shake the image of Tom's ashen face, and couldn't stop herself from worrying that she's failed. What if the diadem didn't work? What if some of its power had been used up on _her_ and now it wasn't strong enough to heal Tom?

Tom was still in the same place as she had left him. He was still conscious, but seemed barely able to move. Some more of the red had left his eyes, and his hand clutched his wand weakly. His eyes took a few seconds before they focused on her. His other hand still clutched the diadem.

"See?" Danielle asked Helena. "What's wrong?"

The ghost floated down to him, but Tom's eyes stayed focused on Danielle. "Grindelwald might have placed a curse in lieu of its healing powers…" she began.

"What do you mean?" Danielle said frantically. "You invented it for this use! Don't tell me you don't know how to fix it!"

Helena turned sharply around to face her. "What are you talking about?" she snapped. "How do you know?"

"It's a long story. I promise I'll explain it later," Danielle replied, feeling panicky again. "Please…please help him." She couldn't keep a sob from choking up the last word.

Helena watched her for another moment before saying, "I can see you truly love him, Clara Ashford. But love is not enough to save him. I loved my Sefton more than words can ever say…but that failed to help us in the end."

"So there's nothing you can do?" Danielle asked desperately. She smoothed Tom's hair back from his forehead, noting how cold it felt.

"I'm afraid not," Helena said. "Just keep the diadem touching his skin and it will do its job. I wish you luck."

Danielle barely noticed the ghost drift away. She was running her hands through Tom's hair, whispering to him, trying to get him to awaken…but his eyes had closed again, and his pulse felt weaker than ever. For a split second, she noted the irony—their roles had been reversed—but this time she had no one to go after, no one to take revenge on. She would have to wallow in this guilt forever, knowing it had been her who caused it, that she should have let him search for the diadem for as long as he wanted instead of always believing they would eventually find it. She had been foolish.

"Tom, I'm so sorry," she whispered, burying her face in his hair and letting her tears spill over. "I love you."

He didn't respond, and finally Danielle lifted her head up, feeling even more hopeless. Did _he_ sit back and cry when he'd thought she was dead? No, he had continued to fight…just as she should. She couldn't just sit back and feel sorry for herself while Grindelwald and his army could attack the school again at any moment. And she was sure that once Grindelwald found out his son was dead, he would want revenge.

Kissing Tom's cold, unresponsive lips one last time, letting her tongue linger on them and struggling to repress the memories from the previous night—which kept popping back up at the most inopportune times—before finally, regretfully, pulling away.

Tom lay, pale as death, on the floor, and Danielle knew she had to do something. She pulled herself to her feet and looped one arm around Tom so that he was leaning on her. She could feel him breathing shallowly against her chest. "Come on, you can do this," she murmured in his ear. "You can make it to the hospital wing."

He drew in a sharper breath at her words and his eyes fluttered open. "What are you on about, Clara?" he asked, and she was sure she hadn't imagined the slightly exasperated tone in his voice.

"You're ill," she said. "You passed out—"

"No," Tom replied, his bright blue eyes boring into hers. "I could hear every word you were saying. Why do you think I am not questioning you about the fact you are still alive?"

"So the diadem _is_ working, then?" she asked, hardly able to believe her senses.

"I believe so," he replied after a short pause, and it was all Danielle could do not to burst into tears of joy.

"Oh, thank Merlin," she breathed, grabbing him and kissing him with all the strength she had. "You're going to be all right."

"I could say the same about you," Tom said, his voice stronger with each word, and to her surprise he yanked her back to him and kissed her just as fiercely. "Perhaps Dumbledore is not as useless as I imagined him to be."

Danielle was spared from biting a sarcastic retort when she saw an odd darkness at the end of the hallway. "What's that?" she asked in a high-pitched voice. It appeared to be swallowing up everything it came into contact with, and she couldn't see anything beyond it.

Tom raised his wand, and managed to create a shield just as the darkness approached them. It stopped once it reached the shield, but she could see that it was curling and twisting, trying to find some way to pass it. This was no ordinary spell if it was powerful enough to break down Tom's shield.

"Grindelwald must have come back," Danielle breathed, pulling Tom's arm away from her shoulder and instead entwining their hands together. "Run!"

She could tell he wanted to stay and examine the new magic, but he was still too weak to properly fight, and there was safety in numbers, so the only logical thing to do was go and find the others. Danielle did the only thing she could think of in that situation: she turned and ran.


	43. Aftermath

To Danielle's horror, the mysterious darkness had already begun to swallow up the Grand Staircase by the time she and Tom reached the bottom. After hearing Alyssa cry, "Clara! Over here!" she abruptly changed direction and instead darted to where the students and professors were all clustered in a group again, this time at the school's front doors.

"Dumbledore put up a defense against Grindelwald," Alphard explained to them. "But we're not sure how long it will last. The professors are telling us to get ready to run at any moment."

"But what if we can't outrun the darkness?" Danielle asked, glancing at Tom. No one answered, so she tried a different question: "What happened to Georgina?"

"Madam Cutteridge brought her to the hospital wing," Dylan whispered. "I think she'll be fine, though."

"Good," Danielle said, feeling slightly relieved. At least _someone_ would be safe. She looked over at Tom, who was still holding the diadem. His face wasn't so deathly pale anymore, and his eyes were back to their normal blue. She wondered if he was experiencing an emotional change, or if he was still essentially the same person. However, it probably wasn't wise to ask with everyone so close to them.

Danielle's vision began to blur, and she quickly tried to blink it away, suddenly terrified the poison hadn't quite left her body. But judging by everyone else's reactions, she wasn't the only one affected: Alyssa was rubbing her eyes, and even the professors were blinking more than usual.

She turned to Tom, but before she could even open her mouth the darkness had advanced on them with a terrifying rapidity and had swallowed her up. Danielle screamed, but her voice held no sound in the all-encompassing abyss. She had the sudden sensation of falling, and then her body hit the ground with a brutal force.

Winded and gasping for air, she rested her face against the cool floor, wondering what had happened. She had gotten swallowed up by the darkness…Dumbledore's shield must not have been able to hold it back for long…but it hadn't killed her. What had it done instead?

Danielle lifted her head, shocked to see that she was lying on the floor outside of Dumbledore's office. She was immediately on her guard; was this some sort of trick? She scrambled to her feet and pulled out her wand, not daring to call out for anyone else if it was a trap.

There was a roaring noise from behind her, and she whirled around to see a huge mass of flames heading straight toward her. If her vision wasn't deceiving her, it seemed as if the actual flames were creatures that seemed to be literally made of fire—dragons, serpents, chimaeras—and she could feel its scorching heat even from this distance.

 _Fiendfyre,_ Danielle thought, panicked, and ran into the nearest room: Dumbledore's office. She slammed the door behind her, knowing that probably wouldn't prove effective in the long run, and sprinted to the window. Unfortunately, the grounds were covered in a thick, unnatural fog: she couldn't see more than a few feet outside. It would be impossible to jump without knowing where she was going to land.

The flames had reached the door by now: she could hear the crackling noise as the creatures hissed and spat at her, angry that they weren't being let in. Danielle gulped and dove behind Dumbledore's desk, feeling her heart pounding dully in her ears. Funny, how just twenty minutes beforehand she was close to death…now, when an entirely _new_ threat had emerged, she'd never felt more alive.

Something was dangling in front of her face, and Danielle, eyes widening, reached out for the Time-Turner. It was too dangerous to use, of course, not now…and she'd promised herself she wouldn't be reckless and go time-traveling again, besides, Tom would be furious with her if he found out…

Speaking of Tom, she remembered that he had vowed to steal the Time-Turner. Palms sweaty, Danielle stared down at the object in her hand in much the same way as she had done when she'd first found it on her front lawn, and suddenly had an idea. A very dangerous idea, but an idea nonetheless.

Standing up, she walked over to the door and reached for the handle, feeling the heat from the fire outside burn her skin. Surprisingly, Danielle couldn't hear the roaring sound anymore. Taking a deep breath, she hesitantly cracked it open, pleasantly shocked she wasn't instantly devoured by it.

It was still burning, she could see that, but it wasn't trying to incinerate the entire castle, as it had seemed when it had first appeared. Rather, it was concentrated in one place, and the creatures were snapping and biting at her, as if they were longing to get at her but something was stopping them from reaching their full strength.

Danielle slowly walked toward it, holding out the Time-Turner as if she was presenting an offering. Its slow tick sounded loudly in her ears, and she imagined she could hear the sand sloshing around in the hourglass.

Just as she stopped in front of the fire, she took a deep breath and stared down at it, the last Time-Turner outside of the Ministry of Magic, and the only one with the power to specify the time and year, not merely hours. If she destroyed this, Tom would never be able to do whatever he was planning to do with it…but on the other hand, she wouldn't be able to see her family ever again either. It had harmed more than it had helped, and it only made everything more complicated…but…

Closing her eyes so she wouldn't be able to see the moment of impact, Danielle released her grip and flung the Time-Turner into the flames. There was no sound as it was instantly swallowed up; one second it was there, and the next it was gone.

She didn't have time to dwell on it, though, as the next moment the flames instantly disappeared, leaving nothing behind, and something shoved her out of the way, toward the wall.

"You stupid girl, are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?" Tom hissed. Danielle shrank back from him, expecting to see the flash of red in his eyes, but they stayed bright blue.

"I…I was hiding in Dumbledore's office and came out here to investigate," she explained quickly. "Did you control the fire by yourself?"

Tom nodded, although it seemed as if the fury of the fire was now entirely concentrated in his expression. He was glaring at her, but this time there was no telltale flash of crimson as he replied, "The darkness must have transported us to different parts of the castle. Dumbledore is downstairs with Grindelwald."

"So you…you came looking for me?" Danielle asked stupidly, instantly blushing.

Tom sighed. "Yes, Clara. After all the…effort I put into you, I was not about to let you go so easily."

Danielle wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult, but she was sure it would make both of their lives easier if she took it as a compliment, so she simply nodded and mutely followed him back down the hallway.

Should she tell him she destroyed the Time-Turner? Danielle figured she would have to tell him someday, but it hadn't worked out so well when she'd kept the truth of her past from him… _I'll tell him when everything settles down_ , she promised herself, although she knew it was a very shaky promise.

The others had converged in the Great Hall again by the time they reached the doors. Grindelwald's men and the Hogwarts professors had formed a circle around Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Danielle suddenly wondered if the final battle between Harry Potter and Voldemort had looked something like this.

"…How did you not see that Erik was my son?" Grindelwald was asking, a triumphant sneer on his face.

"I did see a resemblance, but chose to dismiss it," Dumbledore replied calmly. "He was, I admit, very talented at Occlumency. Instead of blocking his mind, he was able to plant false emotions in people's heads, thus blocking suspicion. He was very adept."

"He must have been if he'd fooled you," Grindelwald said. "And your student killed him."

"Yes, I am not surprised that Tom did that," Dumbledore answered.

"He'll betray you one of these days, Dumbledore, mark my words!" the Dark wizard crowed. "He needs the diadem—"

"But he already got it," Dumbledore said, and Danielle was shocked to see that his lips were twitching.

"What are you talking about?" Grindelwald asked, faltering.

"Ah, I am sorry, Gellert—I thought you were aware that I was able to take the diadem from you," Dumbledore said. "You might want to guard it more closely next time."

Grindelwald's face twisted in anger, and a burst of Fiendfyre shot straight at Dumbledore. Everyone jumped back automatically, but Dumbledore had it under control—he managed to conjure a tidal wave that swallowed up the flames and sent it back at Grindelwald, who evaporated it in the blink of an eye.

Next, Dumbledore shot a spell at Grindelwald that oddly didn't move in a straight line, but in a zigzag like motion. Grindelwald managed to conjure a shield just in time, but Danielle could already tell who had the upper hand in this duel. She wanted to help, but knew that any magic she could do would look like a Muggle card trick next to Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

"Gellert?" Dumbledore asked, and Danielle was confused for a moment—the Dumbledore standing in front of them hadn't moved. But she gasped as she saw _another_ Dumbledore standing behind Grindelwald.

The Dark wizard whirled around, and as he began to duel the second Dumbledore, the real one shot one last spell at him that seemed to envelop him in a huge bubble. Grindelwald clawed at it angrily, casting every spell he could think of at it, but nothing, it seemed, could overpower it.

"My apologies, Gellert," Dumbledore said as his doppelganger disappeared in a puff of smoke. "However, I am of the belief that it's time for you to see how Nurmengard is doing _personally_."

Realizing their defeat, his followers had already begun to scatter, but Dumbledore had already trapped them in another, similar bubble. "It appears we might have to expand the prison," he said lightly, and the Hall burst into shaky applause. Danielle hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she had let it out.

"Is it over?" Dylan asked, sounding awed and even slightly disappointed, as if he wished that he could have seen more of the once-in-a-lifetime display of magic.

"Yeah," Danielle said. She couldn't believe it either, but she knew that things were safe, that she wouldn't have to worry about anything for a very long time. Her hand found its way to Tom's, and to her delight, he didn't pull away.

* * *

The news of Grindelwald's defeat broke out across Europe the next morning, and Dumbledore was hailed as a hero. He'd traveled to Nurmengard to personally escort Grindelwald and his followers there, and reportedly had to take Polyjuice Potion to avoid the crowds of reporters wanting the full story. Dippet released a brief statement saying that Hogwarts would reopen that September after having been closed for a year and a half.

As the wizarding community rejoiced, there was a quick, private burial for Erik, whose body had been sent back to Sweden. Since his mother was dead, there was no one to attend his funeral, but Dumbledore had strangely insisted he be buried with dignity. Danielle wondered if he had seen a young Grindelwald in Erik, and he had somehow been transported back to the past when he looked at the boy…of course, she didn't tell anyone how deep the young Dumbledore's feelings for Grindelwald had once run. Although that had been public knowledge in her timeline, she felt the need to keep it private in the new one.

She spent the next days almost constantly in the hospital wing. Miraculously, only Georgina had been injured during the battle, and with Skender constantly by her side, Madam Cutteridge was confident that she would recover quickly.

The nurse had also insisted that Tom spend the next several days recovering, much to his displeasure. Luckily, the diadem had done its job, and his magic was becoming more powerful by the day. Danielle was just so relieved that she wouldn't have to worry about him anymore that she almost forgot to ask him if he felt any different. She wasn't sure if the removal of Vetus Periculosus would mean that he changed into an entirely different person, or if he would still retain some shreds of his old personality. He'd been almost constantly asleep since the battle, so she hadn't had any chances to ask him. Despite that, Danielle had spent the days at his bedside, bringing a book or talking to her friends next to her.

Three days after the battle, Danielle found herself in the hospital wing once again. Tom was asleep, and while she was waiting for him to wake up she was talking to Georgina and Skender. Georgina was sitting up in bed and looking like her old self. Danielle felt like a third wheel next to the pair of them, who kept stealing secret glances, but consoled herself with glancing over at Tom on the other side of the room—he had flat-out refused to be put anywhere near Georgina. Danielle had a feeling both of them were content with their current situation.

"How are you feeling, Georgie?" Skender was asking when she walked into earshot.

"I'm fine. Hey, Clara," Georgina said, grinning at her as Danielle perched on the edge of her bed.

"Hi, _Georgie_ ," Danielle teased, earning a glare from Georgina and an embarrassed chuckle from Skender. "Figured out a way to escape the hospital wing yet?"

"Almost," Georgina replied. "But Madam Cutteridge is letting me leave tomorrow, so it looks like I'll have to save that escapade for another time."

"Too bad," replied Danielle. She looked over at Skender. "Are you going back to Albania this summer?"

"Of course. Kaltrina will have my head if I don't visit her," he grinned.

"Wait," Danielle gasped. "Did you say _Kaltrina_?"

Skender's eyes widened and he looked inches away from clapping a hand over his mouth. "Yes," he said after a long pause. "She's the one who sent me here." At Danielle's incredulous stare, he explained, "She was worried about you, and told me that you were one for reckless decisions. So she wanted me to look out for you, but she didn't want you to know that she was behind all of it under any circumstances."

"Oh, dear Merlin," Danielle groaned. "Why didn't I know this a few months earlier?"

"No one did," Skender assured her. "Only Dumbledore."

This, of course, was hardly more welcome news to Danielle—but at least it explained why he hadn't been worried when she'd told Dumbledore about his snooping around the school. It was just like her, to get the spies mixed up. Well, technically, Skender _had_ been a spy of sorts…but one with good intentions. Now Danielle was the one to put her head in her hands. "You were able to cast a bloody _Patronus_ …and I was thick enough to suspect you…" she mumbled.

Skender laughed again. "Don't worry about it, Clara," he said, patting her comfortingly on the shoulder. "It's all over with now."

"It better be," Danielle said, still shamefaced.

"At least Erik is dead," Georgina said sharply. When Danielle and Skender looked curiously at her, she explained, "That's the information I knew. I told Dumbledore of the exact date Grindelwald was going to attack—that's why he was so prepared—and I told him that Erik was the traitor. He estimates that we wouldn't have won if he hadn't known."

"So you did the right thing by going into the future and rescuing her," Skender said, smiling at Danielle. "You saved us."

"And Tom too," she corrected, picking at a thread on the bedspread. She now knew why Erik and Skender had been there in Georgina's timeline. They'd both inadvertently come to Hogwarts because of her—Skender because of Kaltrina, and Erik because of Grindelwald. In the timeline Danielle had come from, she'd gone back to 2011 and never returned, so neither of them would have had a chance to attend Hogwarts. Yes, she'd managed to patch things up in the end…but it had been _her_ fault in the first place. What if something happened that would be impossible for her to fix? What would happen then?

It took Danielle a while to realize that both of them had stopped talking and were instead looking across the room. She quickly followed their gazes to where Tom was now sitting up and staring in their direction.

"I guess you guys want to talk, huh?" Georgina asked. She grinned as Danielle nodded and stood up, brushing the dust off her skirt. "Have fun… _talking_." She gave a sly wink and Danielle couldn't stop herself from shooting a glare at her as she walked over to Tom's bed.

"You're finally awake," Danielle said when he was in earshot. She pulled up a wooden chair and crossed her legs, folding her hands on her lap and trying to smile at him. "I don't think you've ever slept that much before in your life."

"I see you are still witty as ever, Clara," Tom replied. Danielle gave him a quick once-over and was pleased to see he was gaining weight: his cheeks weren't as hollow and his eyes appeared brighter.

"I aim to be," Danielle said. She leaned forward. "How do you feel?"

"Better," he said.

"How do you mean, 'better'?"

Now Tom sighed. "I am still the same person, Clara," he answered. "Just because I do not have the curse does not mean I have suddenly changed."

"So you still want to…to…" Danielle trailed off before she could say 'kill people'. Tom, of course, correctly guessed what she meant.

"That was never part of the curse," he told her. "We have had this conversation countless times.."

"But at least you won't fly into psychotic rages anymore, right?" Danielle asked, and he almost smirked.

"I do not believe so. I hope to have better control of my emotions than that."

There was still so much she wanted to ask him—whether he was still planning on making a Horcrux, whether he still felt the same way about her—and there were also things she needed to tell him, such as the fact that she had destroyed the Time-Turner and whatever plans he'd had with it were now destroyed. But those things, she figured, could wait. They still needed to make sure he would be completely healed, and Danielle didn't want to damage the new facet of their relationship. After their night in the Room of Requirement, they had achieved a higher level of understanding with each other, and she wasn't about to relinquish that so easily.

So she just smiled and leaned over to kiss him passionately, ignoring everything and everyone else.


	44. Differences of Opinion

A week after things had settled down again, Danielle found herself called into Dippet's office. She was sitting under the shade of the beech tree with Tom, resting peacefully in his lap, her head against his shoulder while he read a Transfiguration textbook, when Dylan came jogging down.

"Clara, Tom, the Headmaster wants to talk to both of you," he told them. Feeling a slight trepidation, Danielle untangled herself from Tom and stood up. What could Dippet want to talk to them about? The last time he'd called her into his office, it had been good news: he'd awarded all of them with Special Awards for Services to the School, but this time, she had a feeling it wouldn't be quite so pleasant. Had he discovered that she was a time-traveller? She gulped; she still hadn't told Tom about destroying the Time-Turner.

"D'you know what this is all about?" she asked him on the way in. He shook his head.

Danielle hoped to catch a glimpse of Dumbledore so she could ask him if she was in trouble, but alas the Transfiguration professor was nowhere to be seen on their way up to Dippet's office.

When they reached the door, Tom knocked firmly three times. "Enter," Dippet wheezed, and Tom pushed open the door to reveal Dippet sitting behind his desk. There was an exceptionally large pile of papers on top of it, but he didn't appear to be working particularly hard.

"Ah, Mr Riddle, Miss Ashford," he said vaguely, conjuring two chairs in front of his desk. "Glad to see you could make it here."

"Why did you want to see us, sir?" Danielle asked.

"Well, the term ends tomorrow, as I'm sure you are aware, but I wanted to let you know that you are welcome to come back to Hogwarts for an extra year, since you missed out on your seventh. I'm extending this offer to all of the students, but I wanted to let you know earlier, so you can secure places in your classes and such." Dippet settled back in his chair, looking expectantly at them.

Danielle tried to share a glance with Tom, but he wasn't looking at her. "What have the others said, sir?" she asked.

"Miss Taylor is the only one who has chosen to remain behind," Dippet said. "If _you_ stay, Miss Ashford, Dumbledore has suggested that you become Head Girl, and Mr Riddle Head Boy. I readily agreed to his proposal—however, if both of you choose to leave, Miss Taylor will become Head Girl and we will have to find a sixth-year to be Head Boy. I have several in mind…" He trailed off, muttering to himself.

Although Tom still wasn't looking at her, Danielle chanced a glance over at him. He looked deep in thought, and she knew he was carefully weighing the pros and cons of the decision. "I think—" she began, but Dippet interrupted her, jerking back to the real world with a start.

"Oh! I almost forgot, Miss Ashford—Professor Holstone will no longer be needed at Hogwarts now that Mr Riddle is cured, and he has kindly offered you a place working in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic, should you choose not to come back for an extra year."

"Me?" Danielle stuttered. "Why would he choose me?"

"He believed you had great potential, and you would be his protégée of sorts. Of course, he understands if you refuse, but he hopes that you will at least consider the offer."

Danielle was stunned. Holstone had left for London several days beforehand without so much as a goodbye. What did he see in _her_? Wouldn't someone like Tom be more beneficial to have in a working environment, especially at the Department of Mysteries? "I—I don't know what to say, Headmaster," she stuttered. "It's very kind of him—but I think he has the wrong person."

"Yes, your Defense Against the Dark Arts marks were not stellar," Dippet said matter-of-factly. "However, sometimes a person's work ethic can be a better asset than any 'O' they may receive. You will be paid enough at the onset of the job to live on your own, instead of having to go back to the orphanage again. I'll give you some time to think about your decision," he replied warmly, chuckling at her blank stare, "But he requests that you send him your answer within two days' time. He's a very busy man, as I'm sure you've guessed."

"I'll get back to him, sir," Danielle promised. Tom was sitting ramrod straight in his chair, now looking directly at her. She avoided his gaze as Dippet continued, "Well, that's all I had to say. As I mentioned before, I would request that you make your decision by the time you leave tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir," Tom said, instantly standing up from his chair. "Come, Clara."

Danielle followed him, casting a quick smile at Dippet as she did. She wasn't sure what to think or say about Holstone's proposition. Wondering if Tom was jealous that she had been chosen and not him, she chanced, "It's strange that Holstone would pick me, don't you think?"

"Yes, but there is no need to dwell on it since you are not accepting him," Tom replied at once.

Danielle's mouth dropped open indignantly and she burst out, "Who gave _you_ permission to make all my decisions for me? I can accept him if I bloody well want to—"

"You are eighteen years old," Tom hissed at her, spinning around on one heel and glaring down at her. Just because there was no flash of red in his eyes didn't mean that Danielle wasn't taken aback, however. "Do you not know that they experiment on people in the Department of Mysteries?"

"N—no," Danielle muttered, surprised. "They experiment in this time?" But then again, she supposed Dumbledore or someone like him had outlawed the use of human experimentation in the Ministry by the time she was born…"Anyway, I can just tell Holstone that I'll be fine as long as he doesn't try any of that on me."

"You are still not going," Tom said adamantly.

"You just want to keep an eye on me, don't you?" Danielle demanded. "You want to stay at Hogwarts so you can act all high and mighty as Head Boy, but when I'm not there you'll have to spend more time and effort checking up on me! Well, I'll tell you something, Tom—I wasn't planning on saying yes, but now I think I might!"

"Hey, guys, calm down!" Danielle turned to see Georgina and Skender walking up the hallway toward them, hand-in-hand. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Tom said stiffly. Danielle expected him to turn around and leave, but he stayed where he was, still staring down at her.

"Something has to be the matter," Georgina pressed, looking back and forth between both of them.

"It's nothing, really," Danielle echoed. She gave Georgina a pleading look, as if to ask, 'Can you please let this be for once?'

The other girl sighed heavily, but couldn't hide the trace of worry in her eyes. "Fine, then. Come on, Skender." She pulled him away, but not before Danielle heard him saying, "You really have to let people sort out their own problems sometimes."

"Listen," Danielle said after a moment of silence, "I guess you were right."

But there was no response, and when she glanced around, Tom had disappeared as well. She stood, speechless, for a moment, before narrowing her eyes and stalking off. After all they had been through, after all they had done together, he _still_ had the nerve to treat her like she was nothing more than a misbehaving child. "Well, two can play at that game, Tom Riddle," Danielle muttered, and walked away.

* * *

He did show up at dinner that night, though he made a point of sitting far away from her. Georgina and Alyssa instantly noticed this. "Did you and Tom have a row?" Alyssa asked.

"I guess you could call it that," Danielle replied. "Him being a stubborn arsehole works just as well."

Neither of them laughed. "I would have ended it long ago if I were you," Alyssa said, with a long-suffering air. "What happened _this_ time?"

Danielle opened her mouth and was about to say that it was unimportant, when the explanation suddenly came tumbling out of her mouth of its own accord. She tried not to sound too bitter or pathetic, but even as she was speaking she felt as if she was sounding as if she had gotten worked up over nothing.

To her surprise, Alyssa and Georgina, who usually acted barely civil to each other, let alone friendly, exchanged a knowing glance. "What?" Danielle demanded.

"You really don't take logic into account, do you, Clara?" Alyssa asked.

Danielle bristled. "I don't understand."

"Listen, you haven't known him for as long as I have, but he's never been close with anyone, unless you count his friends before you came along…but they were never really his friends, I reckon. Anyway, the point is, he's never really been _close_ to anyone in his life except for you. Have you considered that maybe he doesn't _want_ you to leave because he'll miss you, or he thinks you might find someone else? If the one person he's ever cared about is gone where he can't keep track of them, he'll feel like he's lost control." Alyssa sat back in her chair, a smug grin on her face.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Georgina answered approvingly. At Danielle's skeptical look, she sighed and added, "Oh, come on. I can't believe you're still in denial about this. Have you ever noticed the way he _looks_ at you?"

"What are we talking about, ladies?" Alphard asked, turning from his conversation with Dylan and Skender to focus on his fiancée and Danielle.

Of course, Alyssa was all too happy to relay the news, and Danielle was left scowling: very soon Tom would find out she had been telling her friends personal details about their relationship and that would give him even _more_ of a reason to be angry at her.

Alphard chuckled when Alyssa finished her story. "You've gotta face it, Clara," he said, pointing his fork at her. "Riddle is absolutely besotted with you. I mean, no offense, you're not the prettiest wand in the box— _hey,_ I'm just telling the truth, Lyssa—but he must see something more in you."

"Yes, it's—" Danielle tried to explain, but her words fell on deaf ears. They were all looking knowingly at her as if they had just figured out the meaning of life.

"So now you have two choices," Georgina said. "You can stay here and please him, or you can do what _you_ want to do and deal with his super-intense scrutiny."

"Merlin, they both sound equally unappealing," muttered Danielle. Her friends' knowing expression turned to pity.

"We tried to warn you when you first became interested in him," Dylan piped up from across the table. "It's not our fault you didn't listen."

Danielle kept her gaze fixed on her plate and concentrated on slicing up a piece of chicken, wishing it didn't take so much for her to believe them.

* * *

Tom left as soon as dinner was over. Danielle vaguely entertained the notion of following him, before deciding that she had no idea how to broach the subject and calm him down. Perhaps the best thing to do when Tom was angry was to wait it out. After all, she realized, she couldn't really blame him: like Dylan said, she should have known what she was getting into, but she hadn't been listening to her friends. Besides, Tom _himself_ had told her she couldn't change him. Danielle felt a stab of guilt as she thought about the fact that yes, despite all of his vehement declarations, she thought she could change him.

She thought that she could make him a better person. But _was_ he a better person because of her? Yes, he had showed actual emotion and affection to her…but did it count if he only showed it to one person rather than to everybody? Perhaps he had just given her part of the attention he usually only reserved for himself, but it really didn't matter in the long run. Could Danielle truthfully say that she'd "won" the battle for Tom Riddle's heart, when he was still not a good person by any means?

She mulled over these thoughts as she lay in bed, watching the shadows of the gently swirling lake move across the ceiling. For once, Alyssa wasn't snoring, but surprisingly Danielle found herself sleepless yet again.

When she couldn't take it any longer, she rolled out of bed and slipped on her dressing-gown, quietly leaving the room so as not to wake Alyssa. It was as if her restless brain had decided to take over her body so that she felt the need to walk somewhere, anywhere.

Danielle expected to find herself at the Room of Requirement, but instead she wandered down to the kitchens. Her stomach was growling, as she hadn't had much of an appetite at dinner, and she _had_ promised the house-elves that she would be back.

After tickling the giant pear, she found herself in the brightly lit, still-bustling kitchen. She wondered when the house-elves took a break—they seemed to have limitless energy.

"Madam! It is lovely to see you finally back," the nearest house-elf squeaked. Danielle smiled down at the creature in the pink pillowcase, whom she recognized as Minnie, the one who had served her the previous time she had been in the kitchens.

"Hello," she replied. "I know it's a bit late—or early—for food, but I didn't have much to eat at dinner and I was wondering if you had any leftovers..."

"Of course," Minnie said. She bowed and disappeared in a puff of white smoke.

Danielle was about to go to the table in the centre of the room when a voice from behind her announced, "What brings you here at this time of night, Clara?"

She whirled around, startled to see Dumbledore, who had evidently returned from his trip to Germany. "Professor!" she stuttered, clearly alarmed. "I'm just, er, getting something to eat. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Occasionally I find that a nice cup of hot cocoa solves all problems," Dumbledore said serenely. He took a seat at the table next to Danielle while Minnie brought Danielle her dinner and Dumbledore a mug of cocoa. "How are you doing? The Headmaster told me about Holstone's generous offer to work at the Ministry of Magic."

"I don't know what to do about that, sir," Danielle confessed. "On one hand, it's a great opportunity and I wouldn't have to stay at the orphanage for another summer, but I would miss Hogwarts…"

"You mean to say you would miss Mr Riddle," Dumbledore corrected, smiling gently at her. "That is certainly understandable."

"Well, yes," Danielle admitted. "I guess you could also say that he doesn't want me to go."

"Ah, I see," Dumbledore said, and they sat for a long moment in silence. Danielle waited, half-hoping he would offer her a brilliant piece of advice, or even just listen to her with a sympathetic ear. But instead he replied, "I would say that perhaps taking the job would actually help strengthen your relationship."

"Huh?" Danielle asked ineloquently, stopping mid-chew to stare blankly at him.

Dumbledore smiled. "I may be woefully wrong here, but it seems likely that part of the reason why he's so captivated by you is the very fact that you _are_ independent and you refuse to always conform to his will."

"So you want me to play hard-to-get?" she said doubtfully.

"I didn't say that," Dumbledore replied cheerfully. "But imagine if you were in Mr Riddle's position. He's always lived for challenges. I don't see his personal life being any different."

With that, he finished off his mug, passed it to Minnie with a heartfelt "Thank you," and left the kitchens, pausing only to wink at Danielle, eyes twinkling from behind his half-moon glasses.

She was left staring down at her half-eaten plate, wondering why on earth she was now asking Albus Dumbledore for relationship advice.

* * *

She slunk off back to the Slytherin dormitories shortly after, climbing back into her bed without so much as a snore from Alyssa, and despite still being anxious beyond belief she fell asleep almost immediately, the combination of the warm meal and her already exhausted state major contributing factors.

When she woke up, Alyssa was gone and she was the only one in the room. Danielle lay in bed for a long time, staring at the sunlight that pooled onto the floor and wondering what she should do. The train was going to leave in a few short hours, and before then she had to tell Dippet what her decision was.

The notion of staying another year at Hogwarts was appealing—especially since she would be with Tom—but after all she had gone through, did she really want to confine herself to the monotony of sleeping, eating, and studying, as well as having to endure the snickers and snide comments of the younger years at having a seventh-year in their midst? It didn't sound very appealing.

On the other hand, she could stay in London and work an actual job, earning money so she could support herself. She wouldn't have to stay at the orphanage any longer, and she could have her own flat…but Holstone's offer _did_ sound too good to be true. There had to be a catch somewhere.

But what was it? She wouldn't know until she'd accepted the offer, and what if the stakes were too high? What if Tom turned out to be right?

In her heart of hearts, Danielle knew what her decision was ultimately going to be, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering if it was the right one. There was no win-win scenario, and she was going to have to give something up either way.

Before her nerve could fail her, she got up, dressed into her Muggle clothes for the train ride home, and left the dormitory, going straight up to Dippet's office instead of down to the Great Hall. She hoped the Headmaster was already finished breakfast.

To her immense relief, he let her in right away and she took the seat in front of his desk with the air of someone who had just been handed a prison sentence.

"Good morning, Miss Ashford," Dippet said, smiling benignly at her. "I take it you have made your decision?"

"I have," Danielle said. She wrung her hands in her lap for a second, taking a deep breath—she shouldn't be this nervous, _why was she this nervous?—_ before saying, "I want to take the job."

A look of surprised briefly flashed across Dippet's face, but he composed himself and said, "Very well! I'm sure Holstone will be pleased to hear that. I will give him your word immediately—he told me that if you accept, he will place your starting salary in your bank account at Gringotts so you can buy a place to live—he suggests somewhere in Diagon Alley."

"But sir—I don't have an account at Gringotts," Danielle said, mentally smacking herself. She had overlooked that part—how could she be so thick?

"No matter," Dippet replied. "I can get one set up right away. I just thought—" he quickly stopped himself, shaking his head and returning to his pondering of the _Daily Prophet_.

It took Danielle a moment before she hesitantly asked, "You thought what, sir?"

"Oh, I just thought you and Mr Riddle would want to stay together," the Headmaster said absent-mindedly. "He's chosen to remain at Hogwarts for another year."

Danielle took a deep breath and nodded. "I, er, well…we seem to have some differences of opinion," she tried to explain. "So Georgina is going to be Head Girl, then?"

"I would imagine so," Dippet answered, not looking up. "They won't have to spend too much time together, Miss Ashford, so don't worry about that."

"That's not it, sir!" Danielle protested, but Dippet winked at her before ushering her out of the office, clearly eager to be alone. When the door had closed firmly behind her, she stood motionless in the middle of the hallway, wanting nothing more than to just scream as loudly as she could.

* * *

When she told Alyssa and Georgina of her decision at breakfast, they both reacted in completely unexpected ways. Instead of being supportive as per their comments the previous night, they seemed disappointed. "So, you've decided to give up spending a year with the most gorgeous creature alive to work at the Ministry of Magic," Alyssa said, her voice dripping sarcasm. "I can see you doing that, Clara."

"Yeah, it's a shame I'll have to patrol with Riddle now," Georgina said sadly. "I don't want to have to interact with him _too_ much."

"Yesterday you were all for my taking the job," Danielle said, flabbergasted. "What happened?"

"No one wants to have to deal with Riddle skulking around the castle like a giant snake the way he used to before you arrived here," Alyssa said bluntly. "Although I won't be here to witness it again, I pity those who do." She shot a sympathetic glance at Georgina—Danielle couldn't help but feel relieved that they seemed to have sorted out their individual differences.

"So when are you going to tell him?" Georgina asked.

"I think he already knows," Danielle said. Her appetite suddenly disappeared again as she thought about the look on his face when she told him. Would he find some way to prevent her from taking it?

"Get a nice shag or two beforehand to warm him up," Alyssa said. Danielle looked at her, clearly alarmed. "What?" she asked. "It works, all right?"

"Have you shagged him?" Georgina said, rounding on her.

"What kind of question is that?" Danielle spluttered, feeling herself turn bright pink. "Have _you_ shagged Skender?"

"Oh, please, what do you think?" Georgina replied. "We've been together for over a year—the year that you missed."

"And you already know about Alphard and I," Alyssa pressed. "Now, tell us the truth!"

Danielle was infinitely glad that Tom hadn't shown up to breakfast—she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye ever again if he was. "Yes," she whispered.

They both gasped. "How many times?" Georgina asked, while Alyssa went for, "How is he?"

"Once," she choked. Both girls groaned.

"Only _once_ after all these years?" Alyssa said. "I would be all over him if I were you."

"Stuff it, you're already all over Alphard," Georgina teased before turning back to Danielle. "Now, I'm just as interested in knowing how he is. Is he quiet or—"

"Merlin, this is the most humiliating conversation I've ever had!" Danielle yelped. "It was really embarrassing at first because neither of us knew what to do and nobody ever mentioned how much it _hurt_ , but in the end it was worth it because I got to see Tom Riddle naked. Happy?"

Her friends let out matching gasps of exultation. "I bet he'd be really quiet," Georgina said deviously. "He would just stare up at you—"

"No, he's probably loud. He needs to get his release _somewhere_ ," Alyssa argued.

"Guys, please stop!" Danielle begged, lest Dylan and Alphard, who were playing Exploding Snap at the other end of the table, hear. "He's not— _loud_ —but he's not silent, either, and that's all I'm going to say!"

Thankfully this seemed to be enough for her two friends, who both winked at her and then dissolved in a girlish fit of giggles. Georgina then proceeded to tell the story of what happened when she and Skender had first "done it", which involved copious amounts of Firewhisky and an abandoned corridor on the fourth floor (Danielle made a mental note never to touch the wall there again). After a while, she silently got up and left the gossiping pair in peace.

Once in the Slytherin dormitory, she packed up her suitcase and stared around the room, thinking of all the memories that had occurred and feeling a small pang of sadness. Leaving Hogwarts would certainly be bittersweet. Of course, she could always come back and visit—maybe she could even become a professor someday—but it would never be the same.

Finally, she forced herself to turn around and leave the room, remembering when she had set the spiders on Olive Hornby the night she had first arrived at Hogwarts. Could she have known, then, what would happen to her? If her future self had told her, she wouldn't have believed it. She _still_ couldn't believe it now.

Professor Dumbledore was waiting in the Entrance Hall when Danielle arrived with her suitcase. "Thank you for everything, Professor," she mumbled, and gave him a hug.

"You are quite welcome, Miss Ashford," he said, drawing back and smiling warmly at her. "I take it you have made your decision?"

"I have, sir," she replied. "And I take it you know what it is?"

"I don't think there was ever any doubt on the matter," Dumbledore answered. "Just be careful."

"I will," Danielle promised. She paused at the door, wishing there was some way she could express how grateful she was to Dumbledore for all he had done, but when she could find no appropriate words, she settled on smiling as sincerely as she could.

* * *

She didn't see Tom until the Hogwarts Express was well on its way back to London, speeding past the countryside. The air seemed to shimmer in the late-June heat, and one could be forgiven for thinking that someone had cast a spell on it.

Since there were so few of them on the train, they were all spread out in separate compartments. Dylan was in his own, Georgina and Skender were sharing one, and so were Alyssa and Alphard. Tom, Danielle presumed, was on his own as well.

She wasn't angry at him any longer, but she was wary of how he would react when they were finally pushed together once again. He would go straight to the orphanage, and she would go to Diagon Alley to start searching for a flat. Would he move in with her, or would he choose to stay at Vauxhall for another summer? She knew he detested the orphanage…but perhaps it was a better alternative than living with _her._

Danielle sighed and stretched out on the seat, watching the blurred shapes outside zoom by. She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed when the compartment door slid open. Twisting her head around, she saw a tall, dark-haired figure standing in front of her.

"Tom," she half-groaned, keeping her eyes squinted so she wouldn't have to see him too clearly. "What are you doing here?"

"You know the answer to that, Clara," he said brusquely. "There is no need to avoid me."

" _Me?_ " Danielle yelped, sitting up so fast the blood rushed from her head and made the world spin crazily. "You're the one who's doing the avoiding!"

"I was not," he said stiffly before sitting down in the seat opposite her.

Danielle stared at him in shock. "So you're not angry at me?" she asked hesitantly.

A tiny smirk graced his lips; he was like a mixture of a raven and a snake, she couldn't help but think. Elegant yet devious. "No."

"Well, thank Merlin," she said sarcastically, clasping her hand over her heart. "I thought I wouldn't be able to live with the knowledge!"

" _Clara_ ," Tom said exasperatedly. "It is—"

"No, _you_ listen to _me_ for once!" Danielle cried before he could answer. "I've made my decision. I'm going to work at the Ministry, and I don't care what you say."

"Well, I am going to stay at Hogwarts," Tom said firmly. "I do not care what you say about that."

There was a short silence. "So are you breaking up with me?" Danielle finally asked.

He laughed humorlessly, startling her. "I am not that childish. If you want to work at the Ministry, so be it."

"Well, why do you want to stay at Hogwarts?" she inquired.

Tom hesitated before speaking. "I wish to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts one day, and I need to find some way to get back into Dippet's good graces. The longer I stay at Hogwarts, the easier that will be."

"Oh," Danielle said, softly. "I'm sure you'll get the job anyway. You were his star student for five years." Suddenly hating the distance between them, she got up and curled herself against his side. His arm reached out and drew her close to him, and his bright eyes pierced hers. "I love you," Danielle whispered after a moment of peaceful silence.

Tom pressed his lips to the top of her head before leaning his head against hers. "Holstone is giving me enough money for a flat, you know," she told him. "You're welcome to move in."

She could feel him smirking. "Think of the scandal we will cause," he murmured.

"But you don't care about that," Danielle grinned. He shook his head, and she relaxed into his embrace. Even if the distance the next year did cause strain on their relationship, at least she knew they had the summer to themselves.


	45. Epilogue: The Domino Effect

The sound of footsteps rang out in the deserted London alleyway as a bearded man dressed in a long, black cloak appeared out of thin air, with nothing to announce his arrival other than a quiet "crack" as the air was forced to move to accommodate his presence, akin to the sound of thunder when lightning split the air.

Though an average Muggle would dismiss it as a mere figment of their imagination, the tip of Holstone's wand poked out between his gloved fingers as he set off down the dusty street, his small, beady eyes darting to and fro. He finally stopped at the entrance to the most dilapidated building of all, his mouth curling in a grimace as he reached out to turn the filthy doorknob before quickly stepping inside.

There was only one room inside, with a single, high-backed chair in the corner the sole piece of furniture visible. Holstone respectfully took off his hat as soon as he entered, clutching it firmly in both hands as he approached the shriveled figure sitting in front of the empty fireplace. "The girl accepted the offer," he said after the other person did not appear to have the intention of speaking.

"Good, good," the figure said without looking up. "And where is the diadem?"

There was a short pause before Holstone replied, "I do not know. I would say it is in the hands of Albus Dumbledore."

"Well, then, it looks as though you'll have to kill him too," the emaciated creature spat. His hands shook and he struggled to stand, but his limbs gave out from under him and he collapsed back into the chair, breathing heavily. "Get it any way you can."

"Of course," Holstone said. "But what about my side of the bargain?"

"If you find out that blasted girl is a time-traveller, I don't care! Sell whatever you want to the papers and make a million Galleons! That's all you want, right?"

"That is not all—" Holstone began, but was interrupted by a loud, hacking cough from the other man.

"Just find the diadem—the girl knows what happened to it. Get the boy too if you can." He looked up for the first time, and Holstone abruptly took a step back when he caught a glimpse of the glowing red eyes.


End file.
